


once upon a time

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Angst, Babyfic, Car Accidents, Couch Sex, Depression, Engagement, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Housewarming, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, Past Relationship(s), Permanent Injury, Rekindled Relationship, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 47,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nancy's dream career is derailed following an injury, she returns to Chicago, knowing that Ned moved on years before. She's missed her chance. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlemsmessy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemsmessy/gifts).



Special Agent in Charge Diane Tarkelian glanced up as Nancy tapped on the open door of her office, then slowly stepped inside. "Lupo said you weren't busy?"

Tarkelian smiled, brushing a wispy strand of brown hair from her eyes. "Relatively," she said, and Nancy didn't miss the glance Tarkelian gave Nancy's ankle. "Come on in, take a seat. Close the door."

Then Tarkelian stood, as though she intended to do it herself, but Nancy waved her off. She might be injured, but she wasn't an invalid, damn it.

Except that, in a way, she was.

Nancy hadn't taken any pain medication that morning, since she had driven herself to work, but any pressure or weight at all on her right ankle made her grimace in pain, and the gridlock of Washington's Beltway traffic had left it throbbing. Wearing heels had been out of the question.

Dr. Akhter had told Nancy that the pain would lessen after physical therapy, but without medication it would never go away. The car accident had been terrible, and the pictures of the aftermath had been shocking; she should be happy to be alive. She was happy to be alive. But she would never be active in the field again.

That wasn't worse than death. She did feel grateful that the doctors had done as much work as they had. Her frustration felt petty and mean, but she had never expected to be in this condition. Her left arm was still in a sling, and the fading bruises on her left temple and cheek were still faintly visible through her makeup.

Nancy had a bad feeling she knew what this meeting was about, and she had been dreading it for a solid twelve hours, her stomach churning with acid. Becoming a special agent with the FBI had been her dream job, and she loved it. Losing it over a senseless mistake that hadn't been her fault was beyond heartbreaking.

Tarkelian smiled after Nancy managed to maneuver into the seat in front of her desk without obviously dropping into it, avoiding putting pressure on her ankle. "Drew, I'm not going to mince words. You've been a damn good agent. Your career has been incredible, and you've been an asset to this team, to the entire Bureau. I hope you know that."

Nancy nodded, forcing herself to smile, but she couldn't relax yet. Tarkelian was softening the blow, but it was still going to hurt. Because all the good she had done, now, was in the past.

Once upon a time, she had thought that one day this office might be hers—but not yet, not until she had been in the field a long time. SACs coordinated; field agents were the ones who went in to get their hands dirty, to track down suspects and prevent disaster. That was what Nancy wanted to do, to be.

"That having been said, an opening has become available in another field office. It's for a behavioral analyst. I know your training isn't in that area, but your field experience—you have a knack for understanding and predicting behavior, Nancy, and I really think this could be a good fit for you. Since you could work in that position without—"

"Without being field-approved," Nancy finished when the older woman trailed off. She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. Ever since the accident, it felt like all news had been bad news, in varying degrees. _You'll never walk without a limp again,_ the doctor had told her in different words that were a polite version of the same thing. _You'll be in pain without the medicine, but while you're on the medicine, you aren't supposed to drive or do anything else to independently live your life. The job you love—that's over._

Tarkelian's smile was sympathetic. "I know you're disappointed," she said, leaning forward a little. Tarkelian was a great boss; Nancy had become accustomed to her perpetual-insomniac appearance, the button-down shirts that had never seen an iron, her refusal to wear pantyhose. Nancy didn't care, and none of the agents in her unit did either. Tarkelian was smart and fierce, and she insisted on things being done by the book, until the rules were doing more harm than good. "Look, I am too. You're incredible in the field, one of the best. I wish to God I could keep you here. I mean that. I just don't have a position that will work, given everything that's happened."

Nancy's right hand closed on the arm of the chair. "Well, if something came available... maybe the reassignment could be temporary?"

"Maybe," Tarkelian said, slowly. "You'd be the first person I'd consider, for a non-active position. But I don't know how long it would be, and you never know, Nan; maybe you'll fall in love with profiling."

Nancy couldn't help shaking her head. "I just can't imagine that," she admitted. "I _love_ being in the field. I know there are people out there who would just jump at this opportunity..."

Tarkelian nodded. "They would. And if I put your name in today, you'll have the job without having to go through an interview, and possibly losing out to one of those eager beavers. It's up to you."

"But it's this or nothing. Right?" Nancy forced herself to meet and hold Tarkelian's dark-eyed gaze.

"Yeah," Tarkelian said softly. "It's the option they gave me. At least you would still be working on cases."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't say active ones."

Tarkelian shrugged, sitting back in her chair. "From my understanding, the unit handles active and inactive cases. At least you'd be keeping busy. Look, I know it's a lot to consider, and not a lot of time to do it; I can give you until, let's say, 1 p.m. to think it over? I'll forward you the information about the posting."

Nancy nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything. I really appreciate that you're helping me out here; I know you didn't have to."

Tarkelian smiled again. "Of course I did. You're a damn fine agent and it would be a shame to lose you. At least this way you can still lend the Bureau that incredible mind of yours."

Once she left Tarkelian's office and headed back to her own desk, Nancy's disappointment was almost palpable, and disguising the pain in her ankle no longer seemed important. She returned the greetings she received on the way there with silent smiles, and was met with sympathetic gazes.

Everything had been going right for so long. She supposed that it had been due to catch up with her, sooner or later.

She settled in her rolling chair, and almost immediately Miles appeared. "Thought you might need this," he said, putting a paper cup of coffee down on her desk. "How are you holding up?"

"Sucky," she admitted, waiting for her computer to boot. "Really, really awful. Thanks, Miles."

"No problem." Miles had been a probationary agent who had started once Nancy had just come off her own probation. He was still conscientious and eager to please, but he had mellowed out some, and now she couldn't imagine the team without him.

And the team wouldn't be losing him. They would be losing her instead.

Miles returned to his own desk, and though Nancy would have loved to leave the email Tarkelian had just sent her unopened for a week or two, she knew she was being ridiculous. No fairy was going to appear with a magic wand and heal her ankle, or put her back in order. She had to deal with reality. She had to deal with knowing that soon—in many ways, already—the dream would be over. Her career would be a former one.

Nancy knew that she had the skills and tenacity to strike out on her own, to become a private detective, but she no longer had the physical ability to pursue or confront anyone. While a lot of her job was tracking down leads, the rest of it was putting in the physical effort, and she couldn't, now.

She had only given in to her despair and cried a few times, but now felt like it was going to be one of those times.

Nancy took a deep breath and tipped her head back, then blew it out through her lips. She was going to be okay. Somehow, she was.

Then she double-clicked the email.

_Posting location: Illinois - Chicago field office_

_Of course_ , she thought, bitterly. _Of course. A year too late._

Or, truly, seven years too late.

\--

Just over eleven years earlier. Nancy had scheduled a trip back home to River Heights, a long weekend, at the end of the spring—to coincide with Ned's graduation from Emerson. They had ended their relationship two years earlier, but they had been determined to remain friends. Nancy had kept up her end of the bargain, and so had Ned, while she had headed to Georgetown and he had completed his degree at Emerson. Nancy was working as hard as she could to finish her bachelor's degree and gain the work experience she would need to apply to the Bureau, and that meant taking classes every semester she could, even over the summers. She barely had the time to sleep, much less socialize, but Georgetown was between semesters and she had found a little time to slip away.

She couldn't deny that the thought of seeing Ned again made her happy. Seeing her family and friends was always good, but Ned... just because they had decided to stop dating each other didn't mean they didn't still love each other. It was just too hard, for now. Later, who knew what could happen?

Nancy had never been able to bring herself to quite say it, but she loved the atmosphere in Washington—or at least the people she had met during her classes, the people she had networked with at the Bureau. The more she learned about the FBI, the more she knew she wanted that to be her career.

And the further she could feel it pulling her away from him.

She put that out of her head. Today was about Ned and his achievement. She had no intention of taking that away from him. There was no reason they couldn't be adults about things.

The ceremony itself was long and fairly boring. Nothing unexpected happened, and at the end of it, all the attendees seemed to feel the same way—sluggish, hot, and ready to eat. Nancy recognized several of Ned's family members, and while they were all cordial with each other, she could feel it in the way they looked at her. She wasn't Ned's girlfriend anymore. She wasn't really one of _them_ anymore.

She didn't crash the family lunch after his graduation ceremony, because it wasn't her place. She did wave at Ned, though, and the way his face lit up when he saw her made a warm flush spread through her. He came over, wading through the crowd, and wrapped her in a hug, the kind of hug that would have been followed by a spine-tingling kiss, once upon a time.

But they had rewritten their story. The princess wasn't meant to find the charming prince at the beginning. High school sweethearts didn't end with happily ever afters. They had needed their freedom, and she didn't regret the decision they had made.

When he pulled back, though, that intense look in his eyes sent a shudder all the way down her spine. "Congratulations, Nickerson," she told him with a grin. "I'm really proud of you."

"I can't believe you're here! You said..."

"I know. I didn't want to get your hopes up if I couldn't be here. So, surprise." She smiled again. "And I know you're probably claimed for the rest of the day..."

He nodded, but he was still gazing into her eyes. "Yeah. But how long are you in town? We should grab a drink, catch up..."

She agreed. It had always been hard to say no to those sweet dark eyes, after all. And when she dressed for their casual date, she put on jeans and a flattering shirt, not a dress; she didn't spend an hour on her makeup, just brushed on mascara and lip gloss. No matter what happened, she would be heading back to Georgetown the next day, and Ned had taken a job at a firm in Chicago. She didn't need to dress to win his heart again.

She already had his heart, just as he still had hers. The intensity of their dating relationship had transitioned easily into friendship, and she knew she would always be fond of him. He would always be the first guy she had ever loved.

And as tempting as it might be, as much as Bess would likely encourage it, Nancy had no intention of having one last fling with her ex. Their friendship was good. They didn't need to complicate it.

They had agreed that they could date other people. They had no claim on each other. She preferred it that way. No jealousy; no awkwardness. One day he would tell her that he had a steady girlfriend; she didn't dread it, but she couldn't say she was looking forward to it, either. When she hadn't seen some fresh-faced coed in a pretty dress rush up to congratulate Ned with a huge kiss after his graduation ceremony, she had felt herself relax a little.

He greeted her at the bar with a hug, and her first drink was a martini; his was a beer. He talked about his internship and his new job; she talked about the classes she had just finished and some of the friends she had made at Georgetown. Their conversation was easy and light, and before Nancy realized it, she was ordering her third martini.

"Nan," Ned murmured, and touched her hand. She had been laughing at something, and she was still chuckling as she looked into his eyes. Just like it had been between them for so many years, her heart clenched at the intensity of his gaze.

"Ned," she said with a smile. "Hey."

"I know... I know that maybe our timing was a little off. And I know that you still have your degree to finish..."

She nodded. "And then the Bureau," she said. "Ned, I love it... It's everything I want. At least, I think it will be." She ducked her head, then looked back at him. "And there was a time when I would have felt like the shittiest person in the world, telling you that."

Ned shook his head. "Nan, it's okay," he said. "I miss you, a lot... but I know this was the best thing for us. And I'm glad that we... that we decided to be friends before everything went bitter and awful between us. Because it would have, I think."

She nodded. "I think so too," she admitted. "We were just apart so much... we _are_ apart so much. And I care about you a lot. It's just like you said. Maybe our timing was just a little off."

He nodded, too. "So, maybe it's the beer talking, but... why don't we make a deal. Ten years from today, we meet again. Here." He tapped on the table.

"Or the closest bar," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Yeah. Exactly. We meet and catch up, and... and if the timing's right..."

"Ten years?" Nancy shook her head. "Ned, have you looked in the mirror? You're going to meet someone, and fall in love..."

"And you think you aren't? You're beautiful, smart, sexy... and I'm sure half those guys you think are friends are really hoping that if they stick around you long enough, you'll take pity on them and make out with them."

Nancy chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you hung out with me?"

"Maybe." He lifted his beer again.

"So, in ten years, when you're married to a beautiful woman and you have the American dream, the picket fence and station wagon and two-point-five kids..."

"And when you're still telling your entourage of faithful admirers 'No, not yet, not yet...'"

Nancy smiled and flipped him off. "Uh-huh."

"We'll just meet and have a drink. No strings, no pressure."

Just then, Nancy's next martini arrived. "All right," she said, smiling at the waiter in thanks before she lifted it, offering it to Ned to clink against for a toast. "It's a deal. Ten years from today. Settled or single. We'll meet and catch up."

He tapped his beer bottle against her glass. "And maybe then the time will be right."

She shook her head. "Maybe. We'll see, Nickerson. But seriously..."

"I am being serious."

She smiled again, and raised her glass. "A toast, to you. Congratulations on finishing your degree, Ned. I wish you every happiness life has to offer, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You're my best friend, and I love you."

He tapped the bottle against her glass again. "The same to you, Nan. I love you, too."

\--

That night, their lives had been in front of them, and maybe they hadn't been intertwined, but they had been good. Nancy finished her degree and applied to the Bureau as soon as she could. Ned's career started well and only improved.

And, just as Nancy had predicted, Ned met a woman and fell for her. Her name was Miriam, and she had long dark hair and dark eyes, and she was feisty and smart. Their relationship had started slow, but six months after their first date, Ned had asked her to marry him, and she had agreed.

He had been happy. He had been so happy when he called to tell Nancy the news, and she had been happy for him, she truly had. He invited her to the wedding, but she and her team were working an active investigation and she hadn't been able to get away. She had sent them both her love and a serving bowl from their wedding registry. Because Ned and Miriam would host dinner parties and dinners with friends, and they would have that life she had wished for him, the two-point-five kids, the house in a nice comfortable subdivision, an emerald-green lawn and good schools and security.

She had the opposite—and she loved it. She loved her modest cramped apartment, and the police detective she was dating understood when she had to work late, when she had to put off their plans. She loved the exhilaration of a complicated case, finding connections, working with her team, the quick take-out dinners and the endless cups of bad coffee. It felt like all the best parts of solving mysteries, all at once. She was surrounded by people who felt the way she did, who viewed cases not as inconveniences or hindrances, but as something exciting.

Ned had been married for two and a half years when he had told his family and friends that he and Miriam were expecting their first child, and Nancy had been happy for them then, too. Ned's dream had been to settle down with a woman he loved and a good career to provide for his family, and she had told him that she was looking forward to seeing those baby pictures during their scheduled reunion. The few times she had spoken to him on the phone after the announcement, he had been ecstatic.

Three months before her scheduled due date, Miriam had been walking out of her workplace when she had collapsed. She had never felt better, had never been happier. No one could have predicted the aneurism that killed her, mid-breath, her car keys still clenched in her fist. Not Ned, when he had kissed her goodbye that morning; not the doctor who had been monitoring her pregnancy.

Their son had been delivered three months premature, too small, too fragile. He had lived for only a day.

The shock Nancy felt when she heard was immense. She had cried for him and his loss. He had been _so happy_ , so happy to be a husband, to be a father. Now it was all gone, and Nancy hadn't known what to say. The sympathy cards she browsed at one in the morning when she was on her way home from work, under the glaring lights at the twenty-four-hour warehouse store, had nothing to do with the way Nancy felt or what she wanted to express. It had been so, so hard to even talk to him at all, knowing that nothing she could say would ever be of any comfort.

In the end she had settled on a text message, and even that had made her feel like she was barely trying.

_I'm sorry, Ned. I'm so, so sorry._

His answer had come a day later. _I am too._

After that, she hadn't made the conscious decision to stop talking to him, and it hadn't happened all at once—but in the face of, under the weight of his grief, nothing she could say felt like it had any meaning anymore. In the space of twenty-four hours, all he had ever wanted had been taken away from him. Telling him about tracking down kidnappers, bank thieves, suspected terrorists—it just felt petty and small.

She didn't know how to comfort him. His grief frightened her with its intensity, and she had no words; she had no way to even try.

And so the years had passed and they had become strangers to one another, because she had no way to say what was in her heart. She wasn't the same woman she had been while they had been dating, or even the same one who had toasted his graduation years earlier. She had seen so much, had been through so much, and he had too, and most of it lay unspoken, until it was just too much. Until there was no bridge.

That scheduled reunion passed before she even realized it had happened. She hadn't heard from him in so long that she doubted he even remembered it, now. A few times she had picked up her phone and considered calling him; once she had even worked up the nerve to do it, and she had been both disappointed and relieved when an automated message informed her that the number had been disconnected. His social media pages lay stagnant; the last picture posted still showed him with his wife, her face glowing with happiness and a grin on his face, soon after the public announcement of her pregnancy.

It was as though he had just walked away from that part of his life, like a static monument to what had been and what he lost. In some of the older pictures, especially those posted by guys from Omega Chi, he and Nancy had both been tagged. They looked so young. They had been so, so very young. Nancy read the vague "hey buddy, how are you doing? call me" messages posted to his pages by people whose names she recognized and whose names she didn't, the same ones in a hundred variations, and he never replied.

He had been her best friend.

Maybe their timing hadn't been quite right, but now, she couldn't help feeling it had passed entirely. Even if she had made it back to Chicago for their reunion, to that bar, that night, and even if he had been there, they would have had nothing in common, and she would have spent the entire conversation on eggshells, trying not to say anything that might hurt his feelings, replaying everything she had ever said in her head and feeling shitty about it. Like that foolish request to see those baby photos. Like all her congratulations. Everything. Nothing. She was just a person he didn't really know anymore.

\--

Returning to Chicago, she hoped, was temporary. When she contacted Bess and George and told them about what had happened, her injury and her new assignment, they came down to Washington and helped her pack, and took turns driving the moving van and Nancy's car. Nancy hadn't kept up with them as much as she had really wanted, either, but talking to them was easy, like picking up a conversation they'd been having since they were children.

It didn't change the way Nancy felt about her injury, or what she saw as a demotion. Her career at the Bureau had been her entire life, literally. Boyfriends had come and gone, the way almost all of them always had. Friendships had been made over stakeouts and late-night brainstorming sessions around the conference table. They had become like a family, she and the members of her team. Now she was gone, and they would go on as they had before. And unless a miracle happened, she would never have it back again.

It felt like starting over, with every mile they traveled between. They started early in the morning and the cousins switched off at rest stops and restaurants, and at the end of the day all three of them were exhausted and uncomfortable and ready for soft beds.

Ned's name had come up, as Nancy had known it might. The speechless grief she had felt on his behalf, and that fear of talking to him afterward—it turned out that Bess and George knew exactly what Nancy meant. Bess had dated a few of Ned's Omega Chi brothers, and through them she found out that Ned had disconnected his cell phone, and he had sold the house he had bought with Miriam, the house with the bedrooms full of furniture and clothes for the child who had never seen them. Bess was pretty sure he had an apartment now.

But it was as though his life had stopped along with his wife and child's. He didn't go out anymore, not as far as anyone knew. He still went to work, but that was all.

Nancy had started the day with a pain pill, knowing that she wouldn't be driving, but when she reached her father's house she still ached, every bit of her, even the ankle the pills were meant to soothe. She felt tired and sad and defeated, and when Hannah and her father said they were glad she was home, she could only manage a small smile.

The job was hers, but the position wasn't available yet. She had come to Chicago to find a place to stay, somewhere in the city that would allow her to take public transportation; she didn't want to stay at her father's house, to depend on them when she had been independent so long. She would be independent again. She would find a way.

But, when she crawled into the bed in her old bedroom that night, when she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, she didn't feel any excitement or anticipation, just resignation. This was the best she was going to have. She needed to make the most of it.

She had been on top of the world for so long. The ground felt almost infinitely hard beneath her.

\--

She was a damned FBI agent. Finding Ned Nickerson's address wasn't hard, not with the Bureau's resources.

She found that what George and Bess had told her had been right. He had a home phone, but it was little used, and no cell number. His home address, the apartment, hadn't changed in years. She made a note of both the phone number and the address, debating about what to do, but her apartment hunting was slow. She wanted a place that wasn't a walk-up, close to public transportation, close to grocery stores. She had no pay stub to show prospective landlords. She couldn't make herself feel eager about the hunt.

And she knew that the longer she put it off, the easier it would be to keep putting it off. She would feel guilty when she thought of Ned, when she ran across the slip of paper bearing his address or his phone number, but that guilt wouldn't grow strong enough to convince her to call him. In fact, it would just become easier to talk herself out of it.

She felt reluctant even now. She didn't know who he was anymore; no one did. For all she knew, he resented her for her silence. Maybe he resented everyone.

But it was easier than dwelling on her depression over her condition and her job.

She took the train from River Heights to Chicago; she took the train in the city to the stop nearest his apartment after visiting three prospective apartment buildings, after she was already feeling sad and exhausted. She almost picked up a bottle of wine, or something stronger. Instead she settled on buying a candy bar she remembered that he liked, or at least he had liked it fifteen years ago. By the time she found his apartment, her ankle was hurting her, and his building didn't have an elevator. At least it was only one floor up.

And he wasn't home. When she looked at her watch, she realized she was a little early. If he had stayed at work until five o'clock, she would have a while to wait.

She tried leaning against the wall, but the pain in her ankle was too much, and she slumped to the floor, her back against the wall beside his door. Whenever footsteps approached, she couldn't help hoping, looking up to see who was approaching, but four separate strangers approached, directing curious glances at her before keying into their own apartments. She scrutinized their faces, her realization of the years making her feel nervous again. She told herself that she would recognize him when he approached.

As the moments passed, though, she told herself she was being foolish, that she needed to go back to River Heights, that she had the address wrong or she had found an incorrect record, or she was wasting her time. But she still couldn't bring herself to leave.

_I have nowhere else to go_ , she thought. Not home to Hannah and her father's sympathetic smiles, a shared meal, a quiet night full of the silence of what none of them were saying.

Another figure approached, and despite all the previous disappointments, when she saw broad shoulders and dark hair, her heart started beating a little faster. She began to push herself up, but her left arm still wasn't fully healed, and she just felt so tired that she gave up.

He stopped beside her, looking down at her, and then he bent his knees and squatted so their faces were almost level. He looked the same, in the same way that she looked the same as she always had. The same hair, the same eyes, the same jaw, the same lips. But when she looked into his dark eyes, the infinite weariness, the sensation that life had just turned into a series of days marked off the calendar, each the same, each another step toward some relief, she understood.

"Hey," she said, and gave him a small smile, one with absolutely no humor in it. "I'm sorry I'm late. I'm so sorry for your loss, Ned. I just wanted you to be happy."

He searched her eyes. "What are you doing here, Nan? I know you didn't come all the way here just to tell me that."

She shook her head. "I have nowhere else to go," she said softly. "My career's over. I just... I just didn't want to leave things like this. I should have been there for you, and I wasn't. I just didn't know how to say it."

Ned kept gazing at her for a moment, then reached for his keys. He looked older now, just as she did. He looked tired.

"Come on inside," he said, and helped her stand.

His apartment was small and cluttered, and through the open doorway into the kitchen she saw empty delivery containers on the countertop, empty drink glasses. One side of the couch was piled with coats, sweatshirts, scarves and ballcaps. The coffee table's surface was entirely covered by more detritus of a bachelor's life, empty chip and cookie bags, plastic drink containers from delivery and take-out orders. Ned had never been one to cook, and he hadn't been incredibly fastidious about keeping things clean, but he had been better than this.

But if what Bess had said was true—and Nancy was starting to believe it all had been true—no one visited him. He didn't clean because cleaning meant preparing the place for someone else to see it. She remembered the monthly cleanings she had done of her own Georgetown apartment, throwing away all the wrappers and containers, sorting her clothes and hanging everything up again, doing countless loads of laundry. She had done it because the clutter was starting to drive her crazy.

He brought her a glass of water, along with one for himself too. The apartment felt eerily quiet without anything on or playing, no music, no television. She saw a laptop and a printer beside the couch. The television screen was covered in a fine layer of dust.

"When you said your career was over, what did you mean?"

Nancy didn't see a coaster or anywhere to put her glass down, so she held it in her hands. Edith Nickerson would have thrown an unholy fit if she had seen her son living in these conditions. She was surprised that the older woman hadn't barreled past Ned and taken over housekeeping—but maybe she had, for a while. Nancy realized, guiltily, that she didn't really know how Edith and James were doing anymore.

"I was in a really bad car accident," she explained. "On the way out to a crime scene, t-boned by a truck that hydroplaned and went out of control. My left foot was pulled back against the seat, but my right was on the gas, and when the truck hit me, it crushed my side..." She looked down. "The doctors did everything they could, but my ankle was broken so badly that it's going to hurt the rest of my life. The pain medication means I can't drive by myself... not that I can drive with this bum ankle, anyway." She shrugged. "So I'm out of the field, for good."

"I'm really sorry. I know you must be upset."

"Yeah. I am. I'm just so angry..." She shook her head, then looked up at him, wide-eyed. "I'm really sorry. I came here to talk to you and apologize to you, not to talk about this."

He shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was slow, his words considered; his expression wasn't even calm or serene, but a step below that. He had been so energetic and happy the last time she had seen him, and the change was striking. "Go ahead," he said quietly. "Like you said, you're here to catch up with me. So tell me about it. You're angry?"

"Hell yes I'm angry. I... Ned, I was on track. I had my _dream job_. I had the life I'd always wanted." She caught herself fidgeting with the glass and moved to edge it onto the coffee table; Ned, without missing a beat, swept a few of the empty chip bags off the table to clear a space for her. "Thanks. I'm sorry. Like I was saying... I don't know if I ever would have understood, or been happy for things to end up this way, but I just know that I didn't want it to be like this. And a profiler job?"

"Profiler job?"

"Yeah." She raised her arms in a futile gesture. "It's a fucking gesture because they can't keep me in the field, so they decided to shuffle me off here, to a behavioral analyst position. I just... maybe I would've been happy, if I hadn't known how it was to be an active field agent. Maybe. But it's over now, it's all over. And I'm in pain all the time. All the fucking time."

He was looking down at his own glass when she glanced over at him. "I understand," he said softly.

Her first impulse was to retort that he didn't, but of course he did. It was just that his pain wasn't like hers.

"Ned, do you want... to talk about it? Or would it hurt too much? I don't want to make you upset."

He shook his head. For a long moment he didn't speak, and she waited.

"I didn't realize," he said softly, "that there was an expiration date on grief. For other people, anyway. I didn't realize... and I'm sure sometimes I was one of those people, but there comes a point and after it, everyone around you just wants you to _get better_ again. To get back to who you were. Like you can just take a break and pick it back up again. Like anything at all that you ever enjoyed means anything, afterward."

"Is that what happened with you?"

"Yeah." He rolled the glass slowly in his hands, between his palms. "You know, just like you said. I had the life I always wanted. Right there, right in front of me. I saw the way the rest of my life was going to be. I _knew_ , with every fiber of my being. And then it was gone. The center of my world was gone."

She nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her. She understood, finally, what that must have been like.

He drew a long, deep breath, then let it out. "I don't want to get past it," he whispered. "Like it's something I could heal from. Sometimes I know that I should, but I just don't care." He shrugged again. "There's nothing good here. Nothing left for me here." He started to say something else, but he stopped, staring at the floor in front of him.

The slight shiver in his voice before his words trailed off, knowing how upset he was, made Nancy's throat swell with sympathetic tears.

Once upon a time, they had been golden.

She moved across the couch, toward him, and wrapped her good arm around his shoulders. "Tell me what to do, how to help you," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I should have been here for you."

He made a soft noise. "And you would have been sick of it too, like everyone else," he murmured. "I just got tired of lying, just to make them feel better."

"But we always told each other the truth, you and I," she said, stroking his shoulder. "Haven't we?"

He released a sardonic chuckle. "Have we?" he said, and brought his head up to look into her eyes. She became conscious then of how close she was to him, and she swallowed, but she didn't move away.

"I thought we did."

He shrugged and put his glass down. Nancy dropped her arm, but still remained close to him.

"When you didn't call me... I didn't know what to say," she said softly. "And it was easier to not say anything at all. It felt petty and stupid to call and tell you about what I was doing at work, when you..." She shook her head.

"And I didn't want to pretend I was okay with you too," he said. "You had the life you'd always wanted. You wouldn't have wanted me to bring you down. When I told you I wanted you to be happy, I meant it."

She gave him a sad smile. "I meant it too," she said softly. "It broke my heart when I heard about what happened, but that didn't mean I didn't want to talk to you. I wish I'd made the time... to come back, to meet her."

"She's beautiful," he said. "And in some ways a lot like you. Doesn't take shit from anyone, incredibly smart, loves to help people." Then he swallowed. "Loved to."

Nancy looked into his face, afraid that her concern was showing and that seeing it would hurt him. "And with her you had the life you had always wanted."

Ned sighed. "I had _a_ life," he told her. "A life I shared with a woman I loved. I don't regret that, not at all. But when I knew that my life was going to be with her, I poured myself into it. I gave her everything, and then she was gone."

"What do you mean, _a_ life?" she said.

Ned had just opened his mouth to answer her question when Nancy's cell phone began to ring. "Shit, _shit_... I'm sorry. Hang on."

Hannah was calling, worried about her since she hadn't made it home yet. Nancy assured her father's longtime housekeeper that she was all right, that she would eat her dinner when she returned to her father's house and not to wait up. Then she put her phone down, turning back to Ned.

Maybe talking to Bess and George again had felt very natural, but with Ned, Nancy had always felt different. She had been attracted to him since they had met, and even after that attraction had been channeled into friendship, that hadn't changed their history. He was the first man she had ever loved, and she still did love him.

"I mean, a life," he said. "Nan... I love you, and I always have. And I know that I love you more than you love me."

Nancy had to look away. She took a deep breath. "Ned..."

He touched her knee briefly, gently. "No, it's okay. I made my peace with it a long time ago. I just wanted you to be happy, whatever that meant for you, with me or without me. And when I realized that you weren't ready to be with me, that maybe you never would be, I let you go."

She looked back up at him. "I thought we agreed."

He nodded. "You weren't ready to commit to anyone yet. Not me or anyone."

She nodded. "I wasn't... but Ned, what we wanted was so different. When I went to Georgetown..."

He held her gaze. "When you went to Georgetown, if you'd asked me to, if you'd wanted me to, I would have followed you to Washington. Nan, I would have done anything to make you happy. But you didn't want me there with you."

She searched his eyes. "But, Ned... we were apart... and I couldn't be who you wanted..."

"You mean Miriam?" he said softly, and the sadness in his voice made her heart clench. "That picket fence and station wagon you teased me about?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"I built a life with her. I would have built a life with you, if you'd let me."

She couldn't help it. Her eyes filled with tears. "When you said that maybe the timing was wrong..."

He looked away. "Wishful thinking, I guess," he said.

They were both quiet for a minute, and then her cell phone chirped. "I guess I should go ahead and eat dinner," he murmured.

"And I should probably get back to Dad's," she said softly, glancing at her phone without picking it up to check it. "Ned, do you want to... to come over, have dinner with us some night? Maybe meet for a drink?"

He brought himself to his feet. "No," he said, but his voice was gentle. "I'm sorry. I don't really..."

"What? Ned, please. Dad loves you. He'd love for you to come over."

He shook his head. "Thanks for the invitation."

Nancy stood, too. "Please?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight, okay? But I'll think about it."

\--

No matter how hard she begged, Ned wouldn't go out. Not with her; not with her, Bess, and George; not with her and her father. When she asked him about his plans over weekends, he told her he was staying in. She remembered what he had said, about being tired of lying, tired of putting on a brave face and making conversation.

And that was what they would expect. That was what she would have wanted, too.

Over the next two weeks, she found that Ned never returned voicemails left on his home phone, if she was even able to leave a message, and sometimes he apparently turned his ringer off and ignored calls, too. If she called four times in a row, sometimes he would pick up. But the only way she could be sure that she would see or talk to him was by waiting at his apartment for him to come home.

She made a game out of it. The next time she saw him, she gave him the candy bar she had picked up, and she didn't make him talk about anything. The next time, she brought him a slice of the cake Hannah had made the day before. That was the night he brought out the photo album, and he showed her the pictures of his life with Miriam.

When he was finished going through it, telling Nancy all the stories she hadn't heard, about the day he had asked Miriam to marry him, the terrible day she had died, and all the days between, Nancy knew she needed to leave his apartment to head back to her father's house. She had finally located a suitable apartment, but it wouldn't be available for her to move in for another week, and she was still living at her old home. It was late. She needed to go. She just couldn't make herself do it.

"I used to come home after work and tell her about my day." Ned's fingertips were brushing the very edge of the last photograph of her in the album. "I still do."

"You come home and tell her about your day?"

He nodded. "It makes me feel a little better," he said softly. "Sometimes I write to her, too."

"Is that part of why you don't go out?"

"Yeah."

The coffee table was neater than it had been. She didn't think he had done it for her. The look in his eyes was still the same. The pain there hadn't changed.

But she had started looking at him as her project. She needed something, someone, to focus on, and it was her way of doing penance for abandoning him for so long. He might deny it, but she thought he needed a friend, probably more than she herself did.

That was all she wanted.

She just hadn't known. She hadn't known that when he had let her go, it was because he had thought it would make her happy. She couldn't deny that he had been right, though. She had needed her freedom, and she had loved every minute of it. She just hadn't thought it would be mutually exclusive, that he had thought she would only be happy without him.

Being back in Chicago... it felt like grains of salt under her skin. She kept in touch with her old SAC, making sure that Tarkelian would be more likely to remember her if circumstances changed. She hated the other members of the BA unit as soon as she met them; they were all superior, brash, and completely disconnected from reality. They analyzed data and made suppositions, and when they turned out to be wrong, they fixed on another piece of data that threw everything they had said before out the window. They built castles in the air. She had always wanted to be the person out there finding clues and making arrests.

She was uncomfortably aware of her perpetual limp, and she did everything she could to disguise and ignore it at work. By the end of every workday she was exhausted and aching.

She was never going to go dancing again. She couldn't swim, couldn't play volleyball or tennis, couldn't even drive a go-kart. She couldn't use the elliptical or the stationary bike at the gym. She felt useless. She felt angry and depressed and frustrated.

And she was able to understand, now, how easy it was to just keep postponing and canceling plans until people became tired and didn't even try anymore. Bess and George were still able to reach her, but they were her oldest friends, and they knew her.

And Nancy felt like she wasn't entirely lost, if she still made the effort to talk to Ned, to do her penance. He felt like no one wanted to hear what he was thinking, but she was patient and she didn't stop him or tell him that he was being ridiculous, that it was time to let Miriam go. He had loved Miriam enough to build a life and a home with her. Nancy had never had that. She couldn't tell him he was wrong.

The next week she didn't make it to his apartment until Wednesday, but he smiled when he opened the door to her. It was a small smile, but it was a smile. "Can I make you a deal?" she asked, as she walked in. Around him she didn't try to disguise her limp, either. There was no point.

"Maybe," he said. She hadn't stopped asking if he wanted to come to her father's house for dinner, or to just go out. He was being cautious.

"Well, I managed to move in to my new apartment, but I figured out it's really hard to buy more than a few things at the market and get them home without a lot of trouble."

"I can imagine."

"So here's the deal: if you drive me to make my grocery trip this weekend, I'll make you dinner."

"At your place."

"Well, yeah. That makes the most sense."

"And it would just be the two of us."

She nodded. "Yeah. Just the two of us. I'll make something easy, just to say thanks. You need more than one square meal a week, Ned."

Edith's influence hadn't entirely left her son's life. Once a week, on Sunday, Ned traveled to Mapleton to have a meal with his parents. His mother sent leftovers back with him, but he finished those quickly.

And, Nancy had to be honest, cooking something elaborate for herself had never been high on her list of priorities, and any man she was dating wasn't exactly going to be blown away by her culinary abilities. When she had been active in the field, she had lived off frozen entrees and canned fruit and Starbucks.

"I don't know."

She pushed her lower lip out in a small pout. "I'm not above guilt-tripping you," she told him. "Or begging. Or promising some of Hannah's chocolate cake. I..." She sighed. "It's taking me a lot to even ask you. I know Hannah or my dad would happily do it, but it would be too easy to just let Hannah take over, you know?"

"I can imagine."

"So, please? Just tell me what you want me to make, and I'll make it for you. Please?"

Ned took a long moment to respond. "Just dinner, and that's it."

She nodded, making her eyes wide and sincere, and held her hand up. "I promise. Just dinner."

He sighed. "Okay."

A part of her almost didn't expect Ned to show up that Saturday afternoon. She dressed anyway, absently massaging her ankle as she sat on the small couch in her apartment. Remembering the clutter in Ned's place had made her feel almost fanatical about organizing everything at her own place, and she had bought bins, containers, and shelves for almost everything she could. And, when she wasn't feeling overwhelmingly bitter about everything, she had to admit that while she missed her apartment, her entire _life_ , in Georgetown, the location and the layout of the apartment she had found in Chicago was better, and she was the most grateful that it was a single apartment. Her own apartment. No roommates. No one around to keep a watchful eye on her.

She had taken her independence for granted. Even having to ask Ned for a ride to the grocery store had felt like a defeat.

George, for her part, had done everything she could to still make Nancy feel like she could do something active with her friends. She might not be able to swim, but she could still play in the pool. Bess actually did join in on the foosball tournaments, the table tennis, and the occasional game of Scrabble. When George texted to ask if Nancy wanted to join her and Bess for brunch the next day in the city, she considered, and was surprised when she realized that brunch wouldn't be so bad, and would likely let her get out of other invitations later in the week.

_Is this how it is for him?_ she wondered. _Taking me to the grocery store so I'll stay off his back a little while longer?_

Ned showed up two minutes late wearing jeans and a long-sleeved Emerson shirt under his jacket. Fall was firmly underway in Chicago, and the wind was turning bitter, the leaves beginning their dying change. "Sorry. Finding parking around here is a little tricky," he told her.

"It's fine. Thanks for doing this for me. I really owe you."

"Oh, I know you do," he said, with a small smile.

When Nancy had discussed her particular issues with Hannah—standing on her feet too long made her ankle hurt unbearably, and she wasn't that good with tricky time-sensitive recipes anyway—Hannah had recommended casseroles that she could make and freeze or refrigerate, then throw in the oven when she was ready to cook, or recipes she could put in the crock pot and leave simmering all day while she was at work, then come home with something ready to eat. Nancy had found her appetite was small, and so she opted for fresh fruit and crackers, vegetables for salads that wouldn't take too long to chop up and assemble, and two roasts, along with the ingredients she needed to prepare dinner for her and Ned. He hadn't made her promise that she would make a chocolate cake, and when she asked if brownies were all right, he told her that she didn't need to bother. He had his own shopping basket, but he stocked up on chips, microwave popcorn, bread and sandwich meat, nothing substantial.

Nancy held her tongue. She wasn't his mother or his girlfriend. And at least he was eating something, although the firm, muscular body she could remember from his football and basketball career at Emerson wasn't his anymore.

She bought the brownie mix anyway.

For dinner, because she was in the mood for it and he hadn't asked for anything in particular, she made meatloaf the same way her mother had when she was young, the same way Hannah had learned to make it for her and Carson, and planned to boil potatoes so she could mash them to go along with it. Canned peas were easier, too. She put Ned in charge of peeling the potatoes while she put the meatloaf together, then mixed the ketchup glaze to go on top.

"Comfort food, huh?"

Nancy shrugged. "It's cold and I just wanted something warm. I wish I could go for a run to work it off, though. You know how when you go fast enough for long enough, and you're just… ugh. And then you break through it and it's incredible? Remember that time we were at Lake Michigan?"

Ned smiled. "Which time? The time those guys were trying to kidnap you, or when we were looking for that stalker? The time you ended up in the water and I had to jump in after you, at Navy Pier?"

"All those times," she teased him. After she had thoroughly rinsed her hands and put the meatloaf in the oven, she sat down on the stool in the kitchen, watching him as he finished peeling another potato and put it in the water. His hands, his large palms, his long fingers… she had always loved to watch him.

She had always loved him, always. Maybe he did love her more, or maybe he had always been more willing to talk about it than she had. She had never, never wanted their relationship to become bitter or sour; that would have broken her heart. It had been easier to make it less important to both of them, smaller. She had only been able to carry so much with her, when she had left for Georgetown, and her feelings for him had been too much.

She hadn't stopped loving him. Walking back into what had been her life made her feel it all over again, a long-dormant plant slowly waking again thanks to proximity. When she went back to Washington, she hoped the distance wouldn't kill it.

"So your place is pretty nice."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "The trip to work isn't too long, not from this stop. As much as I wanted to hate it, I think I like it."

"And it's very organized. Seems like your files were the only thing that was organized, before."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I spend a lot more time here, now. I'm not off chasing criminals on the weekends. And I get tired so much more easily that leaving stuff where I can't find it feels like a waste."

She had settled on the couch, and she was watching him as he walked around the room, pacing without appearing to pace.

"So we have an hour to kill before dinner."

The glance he directed at her wasn't smoldering by any means, but Nancy remembered when having time to kill meant making out until they were both breathless, until they had forgotten what they were waiting for, or that they had been waiting at all. His body pressed against hers, his fingers in her hair, the twinned fear and arousal until the day they had given in to the attraction between them, and the perpetual desire she had felt for him that next year.

Even then, a part of her had known that it wasn't meant to last.

"We could watch some TV."

He nodded and came to sit down beside her, but not too close. Nancy reached for the remote control, flinching when her cell phone went off.

"You're popular."

Nancy shook her head, chuckling. "Not really. Bess and George invited me to brunch tomorrow. But, speaking of cell phones… it's hard to believe you don't have one."

He shrugged. "I do."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Never know when I might get stranded in the middle of nowhere, or when the power might go out."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He glanced over at her. "My parents are the only ones who have the number; I don't give it out to people. I was just tired of all these voicemails, all this shit…" he sighed.

"If I give you a brownie, will you give me your cell phone number?"

"Hey, Drew—I thought this dinner was to say thanks for taking you to the store, and now you're talking about withholding brownies?"

"If that's what it takes," she replied. "I'd like a way to get in touch with you, and I thought we were friends. But if you don't want me to call you…"

Ned sighed. "Fine. _Fine_. It's not like you wouldn't have been able to find it anyway."

She grinned. " _Yesss!_ Thanks."

He shook his head again before he gave it to her, so she could input it into her own cell phone. "The first time you call me seventeen times just to try to harangue me into going to dinner, I'm changing it," he warned her. "Or if Bess just happens to find out what it is, your ass will be grass."

Nancy crossed her heart with her fingertip. "Your secret is safe with me, Ned."

\--

It became easier for him, over time. He still didn't want to see anyone else, and the one time Bess dropped by Nancy's apartment unannounced and Ned was there, he immediately made excuses to leave. But their trips to the grocery store became a weekly ritual, and slowly she began to notice that his apartment was becoming tidier, his kitchen cleaner. After they had both stocked up in preparation for the first winter storm, he asked if she wanted to come over to dinner at his place, and together they made spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread. It was simple, and some of the noodles stuck together because they had been talking instead of stirring the pasta as often as they should have, but when they sat down, she felt like she had accomplished something, and she sensed that Ned had too. She didn't know if he had bothered cooking anything since he had moved into the apartment.

Her work became less like pulling her own teeth every day. About a month into it she had lost her composure entirely and started telling them that they weren't considering all the angles, that she had seen similar cases that hadn't been at all like what they described, and things had been awkward for a few days, but then they had gotten better. She hated Terry with a rage that would have been refreshing under other circumstances, but once she understood Johnson and Petit, she found that they weren't so bad. The head of the unit wasn't so bad, either.

It wasn't being in the field. It wasn't doing the work she had always loved and dreamed of doing. She hated that she was slowly becoming more acclimated, but it was like her ankle. She was always aware of it, but that didn't mean she had to dwell on it.

Then she saw a notice about a film revival. The theater would be screening _Casablanca,_ one of her favorite movies. She sent an email to Ned asking if he wanted to go, knowing full well that he would tell her no.

But he said yes.

The change was slow, almost imperceptible, but she could see it. Very slowly, over the end of the fall and into the winter, he began to laugh again. He said okay the third time she asked him to come over to her apartment and have dinner with Bess and George, once she began asking regularly again. They went to the movies together once a month, and had dinner together at least twice a week, always at an apartment, never at a restaurant. Ned was making a decent salary and so was she, but their lives were comfortable.

And when a special agent in another division asked her out, she was so flustered by it that she said yes—but only because he had asked her out for a Friday night. Saturday nights were the nights she had dinner with Ned, and she wasn't willing to give that up.

She was simultaneously relieved and a little deflated when the agent didn't ask for another date, when she felt no spark there. She just didn't know why, until she realized that starting a relationship with someone in Chicago and then moving back to Washington would be a mistake. And she wanted to be in Washington again. Even if she couldn't be in the field, to be with her old team again…

She found herself talking to Ned about it, one night when she was at his apartment and the ice began early, making the trip home treacherous and his invitation for her to sleep over innocent. It wouldn't be fair to start a relationship, only to see it end when she left—but she had become accustomed to it, in Washington. The men she had dated had seen their relationships as casual, and when work or attractions to other people interfered, no hurt feelings, no harm done. She hadn't cried over it, and she didn't think they had either. Leaving to return to Washington was an entirely different matter, though.

She hadn't cried over a man in a long time. The only one she had cried over, once upon a time, was the man sitting next to her on the couch, who had become her best friend again since she had returned, who had only come out of his shell because of her, and even that wasn't a steady thing. He still went through depressed spells, still had days he didn't want to leave his apartment once he returned from work. She understood. But he had been getting better.

And then he smiled at her, nodding in understanding, and she realized it again.

_I had to let you go. I wanted you to be happy and that was the only way to let you be happy. Without me._

And she would do it again. She would walk out of his life again.

_His happiness isn't my responsibility,_ she told herself, as she went to the guest bathroom and brushed her teeth before going to bed, shivering when the cold water touched her fingertips. _His happiness is his own responsibility. And even if I hadn't been here, someone else would have been here for him._

But she knew that wasn't true. Everyone else in his life, other than his parents, had wanted to see him as he had been, not as he was now. They hadn't been prepared to deal with the weight of his grief. And she easily could have been among them, too. Ned had been able to start over, with her. She didn't think anyone else would have given him the chance.

He still talked about Miriam; he still thought about her all the time. He insisted that Nancy take his bed and he took the couch, and when Nancy turned onto her side, she saw Miriam's face in the framed professional photograph at Ned's bedside, Ned's arm around her waist, both of them smiling into the camera. Both of them happy.

But she also saw the picture beside it, smaller, candid. Nancy had taken a snapshot of them both with her camera a month earlier, the dinner they had just prepared in the background. She was grinning; he was smiling. She had sent it to him immediately after.

He had always wanted to make other people happy; that was what had always given him the most pleasure. Then he had drowned when the one person whose happiness had mattered most to him was gone, and there was nothing he could do.

To make her happy, he had let Nancy go.

And for the first time since the doctors had told her what the accident had cost, suddenly, her heart aching the whole time, Nancy cried herself to sleep alone in Ned's bed.

\--

The snow was just beginning to melt when Nancy headed to River Heights for her weekly dinner with her father and Hannah. The trip by train was pleasant; it gave her time to catch up on any work she had taken home, or on her reading, and she liked being alone. Ned always offered to pick her up from the train station when her return was late.

Dinner was good, as it always was; Hannah prepared containers of leftovers for Nancy to take back with her, just as she always did. Her father genuinely liked that she was nearby; he had been proud of her career in Washington, but he was just as proud of her career with the unit in Chicago. She couldn't help loving him for that.

"So, sweetheart, want to do a favor for your dear old dad?"

Nancy smiled. "Depends on the favor, I guess," she told him. "A villain you'd like me to track down, maybe?"

He smiled. "Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. Over the summer I went to one of those fundraiser events at the country club, the ones I remember you being so fond of…"

Nancy chuckled. "Oh God, those. Yeah, I remember. Please tell me you're not asking me to be your date six months from now. I'll be washing my hair."

Her father laughed. "No, no. They raffled off prizes, and I won a weekend at a cabin about two and a half hours away. It's supposed to be beautiful, really picturesque up there… but I already know I can't get away before the offer expires, and besides, that sounds like the kind of thing you and Bess and George always used to love to do. Take a little weekend vacation and stumble over a saboteur or a murder, that kind of thing."

"Well, _I_ might have loved it; Bess was always a little less sanguine about the whole thing."

"It's up to you, honey. I can pass it along to one of my partners if you really aren't interested, but I thought you'd like first dibs. Just let me know soon, okay?"

Nancy headed to the train station with the insulated bag full of leftovers and the printout describing the cabin, texting Ned with her arrival time. The entire train ride she considered it, until she was nervous and unsure, until she finally just gave up and decided to do it.

When Ned picked her up, he opened the car door for her and she collapsed into the passenger seat gratefully. The cabin description was in her purse, and it took her a few minutes to work up the nerve.

"So, Ned... Dad won a couple of nights in a cabin about two and a half hours away, and he can't make it. He offered to let me stay there. You interested? If you wanted, we could do something like we used to—Bess and George could come too, and we could do our best not to get involved in anything mysterious."

Ned glanced over at her with a smile. "And we'd be investigating a ghostly specter or an abandoned mine in twelve hours flat," he predicted.

"Well, that is the risk one takes, when one goes on vacation with me," she sighed with her own smile. "We have some time to think about it, though. Are you interested?"

He considered, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. "Maybe. Have you already talked to Bess and George about it?"

"Not yet. I wanted to see if you were interested. Dad said he could give it to one of his partners, if I didn't want to go. Or..." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to overcome the sudden jolt of anxiety. "Or it could be just the two of us, if you wanted..."

"I think," Ned said, and his voice was a little lower than it usually was, "that maybe just the two of us would be better. If that would be okay with you."

"Sure. That would be nice," Nancy said, smiling again, while inside she was shivering a little.

"I can't do next weekend, though. Some guys from work... they invited me to watch the game Sunday afternoon." He glanced over at her.

"Oh... oh, Ned, that's great. I'm sure you're looking forward to it." She couldn't deny that she was a little surprised, but she was happy for him. She was glad he was finally able to socialize with other people.

He shrugged. "I'd rather be hanging out with you, but I know how how little you enjoy the game. And I... I feel bad for taking all your time."

Nancy shook her head. "No, no. It's not like that. Trust me, I wouldn't be hanging out with you unless I wanted to... but I'm glad you're hanging out with them. I can have brunch with Bess and George and not feel bad about it."

He smiled again. "Look, Nan... thank you. Thanks for not giving up on me when you could have, a hundred times over, and I wouldn't have blamed you at all for it. I really appreciate it."

She patted his knee. The uneasiness she was feeling faded a little. Ned was more relaxed around just Nancy than he was around her when she was with Bess and George. He just didn't want the added complication; that was all. He wasn't trying to engineer some time to be alone for any other reason. After all, he'd had multiple chances over the past months to make a move on her if he wanted.

He was getting better. She didn't think he would be the same carefree guy he had been when they had dated so many years before, but he was getting better. He would have a social life again.

That was what she had wanted, after all. She had wanted to know that he would be okay without her, and now she did.

After he dropped her off at her house, she realized something. She was no longer just counting the days until Tarkelian called to offer her another position. She couldn't say that she was overjoyed with her life in Chicago, but she had stopped fighting it. A big part of that had been her proximity to her father, her family, Bess and George and Ned. Without them, she would have been miserable.

She decided not to worry about it, as she put the leftovers Hannah had given her into her refrigerator. Spending a weekend alone with Ned would be fun. Maybe, if the cabin was in the right place, they could find somewhere to go kayaking, or something else they could do together. She felt a stab of disappointment when she realized that skiing and hiking would put too much stress on her ankle. She could remember doing both those things with Ned and her friends many times, and she had always enjoyed them.

She walked into the living room with her gaze unfocused, sitting down on the couch, lost in thought. The pain in her ankle was steady, familiar, even if it was unwelcome.

Nancy loved her career, particularly the career that had been brought to such a terrible unexpected halt by her injury. But before that, she had loved her life. Her time in Washington had been busy, unpredictable, chaotic, and rewarding, but she hadn't had anyone in her life who tried to make her do anything else. Tarkelian had applauded Nancy's work ethic as exemplary, and Nancy hadn't thought twice about volunteering for weekend and late-night jobs. Her boyfriends hadn't cared, either; any who did were advised to lose her number.

She had felt like she was making a difference, helping people, putting bad people away. The work was never done, and she had never slowed down for long; she couldn't have. She had never had enough _time_.

Now it felt like all she had was time. Most days she clocked out and went home at five-fifteen. She had cooked and baked more in the past six months than she was pretty sure she had in her entire life before, combined.

And now she was going to spend a weekend in an isolated cabin alone with her former boyfriend. He wasn't an ex, not really. He didn't challenge her; he didn't ask for anything, especially not anything she was unwilling to give.

She had taught him that. She had taught him those rules.

And to keep their friendship, their relationship, as it was, Nancy had buried all she had known and felt and thought about him, starting over with the depressed, beaten man who had come home from work those months before and found her sitting on the floor in the hallway outside his apartment. She had treated him like something wounded and fragile, and she had been happy to do it. Happy to be with him because while he didn't demand anything of her, she demanded so little of him in return.

But the memory of what they had been lingered, and woke with every brush of their fingertips, every unguarded glance, the quiet shared laughter and the memories that they alone still held. She remembered how he kissed from more than twelve years earlier, even if she couldn't remember the name or face of the last man who had shared her bed in Washington less than a year before.

Ned had taught her to love. Ned had taught her what love meant and what it was to love someone else, but what she had learned was how to love him. She had blamed it on the purity of that first love, the innocence of youth, the fact that their relationship had not broken but had merely changed to something lighter and easier for her to deal with. She blamed it on the golden softness of nostalgia, the way her fondness and love for him had smoothed away all the rough edges, all the fights, all their problems.

She had never let anyone else in, not as deeply as she had Ned, and she saw now that she couldn't have. Because he was still there and always had been, filling her heart. Only her work in Washington had ever delighted and fulfilled her so well.

And when she had learned how to make love, she had been learning what Ned liked, and learning to enjoy it in return. She could still remember how she had closed her eyes the first time Ned had moved between her legs, and then he had whispered, asking her to open her eyes, and she had obeyed and all she could see, all she could feel, was him and the immediacy of their joining and her body's response to his. She could still remember how overwhelmed she had been the first time she had achieved orgasm when they had been having sex, and how happy they had both been. Before him, she hadn't known if she would ever be attracted to anyone.

They would be alone together. Two nights together.

_And what if all this is in your head? If he doesn't feel this way, and hasn't for a long time? He let you go, after all. Maybe that was part of it._

He was warm with Nancy, but he had told her that part of loving her had been letting her have her own life, and his life had been with Miriam. While he didn't bring her name into every conversation, it still came up sometimes. As far as Nancy knew, that picture of Miriam was still beside his bed. But no amount of time was ever going to erase the fact of his marriage, or the loss of his wife.

Not to mention Nancy's fervent hope and belief that a position would come available for her in Washington with her old team, and she would be able to return there. She had left Ned behind before. If she was given that opportunity, she would do so again. When she considered the way her life had been in Washington, she hadn't had time for anyone to have the place in her life that Ned currently did.

If Ned wanted her, he would have made a move by now. They had spent a lot of time together.

_And maybe he's telling himself the same thing. He's still mourning his wife, though, and like he said, maybe there is no expiration date on that, no day that he'll wake up in the morning and suddenly he won't miss her anymore._

_It's two days. Surely you can talk to him about it..._

But the prospect was utterly mortifying. She loved him, and it had been so long, and it was easier, safer, to just let things continue the way they were. Safer for both of them.

She was able to put it out of her head, over and over, until she prepared for bed and slid under the covers. Then she was left alone with only her thoughts and her memories. Their time together had always been stolen, the beds they shared less than comfortable, but she remembered falling asleep in his arms, waking to feel his lips pressed against her cheek, waking just for the delight of looking into his dark eyes and seeing love reflected there.

If it was truly over, if he had closed the book on their relationship and only the platonic love of friendship had been left behind, she would be happy. She was happy. But if he did make a move on her, how would she respond? How did she feel about him?

She was both dismayed and comforted to know that her feelings toward him hadn't changed. She did love him. She was attracted to him. She wanted him to be happy, and the love didn't claw and demand, didn't color them with jealousy.

_And if he starts going out with someone else, and if he's happy with her?_

_He did. He was. And I was happy for him._

_But, now?_

She told herself that she would still be happy for him, and she thought it was true.

Regardless of her inner turmoil, though, one fact stuck with her. Ned had said he would prefer to be alone with her.

And when she was packing for their trip a few weeks later, she made her decision to include a few pretty bra and panty sets. Maybe he wouldn't see them; then she wouldn't be embarrassed by her inability to read his signals, and their relationship wouldn't change.

Then again, maybe it would.

\--

The weekend they picked was perfect. Winter was finally starting to fade into spring, but the weather wasn't uncomfortably warm, and the roads were clear up to the cabin. They left work a few hours early on Friday afternoon so they could miss the rush-hour traffic and make it there before nightfall. Nancy apologized that Ned had to drive the entire way, and provided the snacks and drinks and insisted on paying for dinner. Ned made what Nancy saw as a token protest, but she didn't care. He deserved to be repaid for doing all the work.

And even though Nancy was feeling little flutters of anxiety, their conversation during the drive was light and easy. Nancy talked more than she otherwise would have, filling some of the silences with all the words except the ones she was afraid to speak, the ones that were just on the tip of her tongue, the ones she was always afraid were about to spill out. She wanted to ask him what he was expecting, or if he was expecting anything at all to happen. She wanted to ask him if he had decided to leave their relationship in the past, if he was comfortable and satisfied by their friendship, or if he wanted more. She was terrified of what his answer might be.

So instead she talked about kayaking and horseback riding and fishing, wineries and scenic drives, everything they could do to fill the time that she might otherwise make a fool of herself. Once the winter had begun to break, Ned had begun going for runs in his neighborhood, and she had noticed that he was looking more fit. Happier.

She was glad that he didn't seem to feel guilty about being happy anymore. She didn't believe the change was entirely her doing, either. Maybe she had been the catalyst, but neither of them had been willing to depend very much on the other. He wasn't her only friend, or the only person who was concerned about her. She was no longer his only visitor, the only person he allowed to socialize with him.

And then this weekend had happened.

They stopped at a well-reviewed restaurant in Lena, and split an order of beer-battered onion strings as an appetizer. Once Ned's order of a maple bourbon bacon burger with steak fries arrived, he smiled in genuine glee. "Great choice, Drew."

"Bacon and bourbon. No quicker way to your heart."

"And the steak fries don't hurt either," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "I would ask if you want some, but..."

Nancy's plate was piled high with pork medallions in herb sauce, fresh steamed vegetables and macaroni and cheese. "Yeah. I don't think I'm going to be able to finish half this, after those onion strings," she said ruefully, patting her belly. "But we are supposed to have a refrigerator in the cabin, so I'll have a good lunch tomorrow... or you'll have a good midnight snack."

"Hey," Ned said with a smile. "Only if you split it with me."

She tried all the components of her entree and pronounced them all delicious, and when the waitress brought Nancy the takeaway box she had requested, she recommended a slice of deep-fried pecan pie with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. Ned turned a pair of puppy-dog eyes in Nancy's direction, and Nancy chuckled as she ordered it. And when they took the first bite, Nancy moaned in pleasure.

"Holy God. How is this legal?"

Ned shook his head, scooping up another bite with ice cream. "I really don't know, but holy _shit_ , it's incredible."

They lingered over their dessert and coffee for a while, waiting until they felt recovered from dinner, and then headed to the grocery store to stock up on supplies for the weekend. Since they were used to cooking meals together, she brought enough in case they would actually return to the cabin between activities to make their own meals. She picked out the ingredients for omelets, pancakes, chicken and steak, soup and sandwiches, chips and trail mix. When she passed an endcap full of bottles of wine, she paused and selected one. She wasn't supposed to drink very much with her pain medication, but a little wine wouldn't hurt.

The cabin itself was beautiful. The nearest cabins were separated from theirs by stands of trees, but Nancy didn't see any signs of occupancy. When Ned parked his car in front of the cabin, the slowly darkening sky was reflected in the windows.

"Hmm. Thanks for inviting me," Ned said. "This is really nice."

"Nicer than you were expecting?"

Ned chuckled. "Well, when something is a gift from Carson Drew... I don't know, I was just expecting something smaller. More rustic."

"The acceptable terms are 'charming' and 'cozy,'" Nancy told him with a smile, opening her car door. "Besides, this isn't that fishing cabin he has up north. Apparently that place is barely habitable."

The local caretaker had been advised of their arrival, and so the front steps were cleared of dead leaves. Nancy keyed inside and smelled the last lingering traces of air freshener and cleaning supplies. The lights flipped on as soon as she touched the switch, bathing the main room in light. It seemed warm and snug, the walls paneled in pine and lined with organizing shelves. The back wall was mostly windows, providing them with what Nancy was sure was a nice view.

Ned brought in the rest of the groceries, letting out a low whistle as he looked around. "Wow. I could really get used to this."

Nancy smiled. The television set wasn't the latest model, but it was large. Board games and puzzles were slotted into their cubbyholes, along with spare blankets. The kitchen was small but efficiently arranged, though the refrigerator was entirely bare; Nancy was glad she had remembered to pick up the staples, butter and coffee, salt and pepper and sugar, that were often missing.

_Welcome to the cabin! Call if you need anything._ A phone number was scrawled beneath.

Nancy explored further and found a modest bedroom with a queen-sized bed and an attached bathroom downstairs, which she used to brush her teeth; the other bedroom was likely in the loft, along with the other bathroom, but her ankle was already aching from the long travel and she didn't feel like hurting it further. She saw a twin bed near the rails of the landing, though. The beds were made with what appeared to be authentic handmade quilts.

She returned to the central living area to find that Ned had put the groceries away, and their luggage was in a neat stack near the door.

"So, what were you thinking for tonight? A game of Old Maid in front of a roaring fire, or some stargazing?"

"Mmm. Vegging out on the couch," she admitted, hobbling toward it. She had just begun to lower herself to it when she froze. "Shit."

"What?"

She winced. "I need to take a pain pill," she said. "God, I'm just so tired. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning."

"Go ahead and sit down. I'll get you some water."

After she had taken her medication and relaxed against the couch cushions, closing her eyes, Ned sat down on the couch too and turned on the television. "Oh. You mind? Just wanted to see what channels come in here."

"You mean if ESPN does," she murmured, her eyes still closed. "Go ahead. I'm just going to rest my eyes."

"Mm-hmm," Ned replied. "It's all right. You've had a long week."

She sighed. "Damn right I have."

She only realized what was going on later. The interior of the cabin was comfortably warm, the couch soft, and while she wanted to stay awake and talk—or only consider talking—to Ned, she relaxed into a state that was between consciousness and sleeping. The sound on the television set was low, not enough to register as more than a soft hum, although she recognized the rhythms and musical cues from other sports shows.

When she opened her eyes again, the last edge of dusk had faded to velvet-black and Nancy had slumped so that her head was resting against a throw pillow on her side of the couch. Her feet felt lighter, too.

"You should probably go to bed," Ned said softly, a smile in his voice, and she turned to look into his eyes. He had lifted her feet into his lap and was gently stroking one of her calves through her jeans, and though there was nothing overtly seductive about what he was doing, she still felt her skin tingling.

"No, no," she protested, pushing herself up. "I'm all right."

He smiled. "We have all weekend," he told her. "It's okay. Get some rest."

Nancy didn't want to give in, but she sighed and began to turn away. "Okay," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I don't... I thought we could hang out. Guess we'll just have to hang out tomorrow."

"I can live with that," Ned said. She began to move her legs off his lap, but Ned shook his head. "Hang on."

Then he stood and leaned down to lift her into his arms, scooping her up with one arm under her back and the other under her knees. Nancy immediately slipped an arm behind his shoulders to help him keep his balance, even while she shook her head.

"I'm not an invalid."

"I know you're not," he said, his tone even. "But you're whacked out on your pain meds and exhausted. Just let me be chivalrous, all right?"

She had to chuckle, although her heart started beating faster when Ned stepped over the threshold and they were in the bedroom together. Her inhibitions were low, thanks to her exhaustion, and she gazed directly at him. His was the same face she had always loved, had known by heart; he had the same broad shoulders, the same cologne.

She just wasn't sure if the love he felt for her was the same as he once had, or if she had become infatuated with him all over again. She was so tired that she didn't want to think about it too much. Before, the physical attraction had been irresistible; his carrying her to the bedroom was the closest they had been since her return to Chicago and the renewal of their friendship.

He placed her gently on the bed and she looked up at him. "Since you're being chivalrous," she murmured, "would you mind terribly grabbing my bag so I can get changed for bed?"

"Sure, Nan."

She had made the conscious decision not to pack any seductive nightgowns, not that the cabin was warm enough for her to wear one by itself for long. Even if she had worked up the nerve, putting it on just to play it off as some kind of strange practical joke... it wasn't like her, or like they were now.

She wanted to think that they told each other the truth. She wanted to think that he was with her because he wanted to be, and that they were alone for a reason. But she still didn't know.

He came back with her bag and she moved toward it, stifling a soft hiss as she put weight on her weak ankle. "Do you need ice or anything?"

Nancy shook her head. "I'll put it up when I go to bed, and that might help," she sighed, sitting down on the floor to go through her suitcase. She found a long-sleeved flannel nightshirt and pulled it out, then looked up. 

Ned was still standing in the doorway of the bedroom, but when he saw her glance up at him, he flushed a little and turned away. "Sorry," he murmured.

She smiled. "It's not like you haven't seen my pajamas before," she pointed out. "It's all right. You aren't tired yet, are you."

He shrugged. "One of the shows I usually watch is on in twenty minutes," he said. "But I could be persuaded to just watch it on the DVR when I get home."

She tossed the nightgown up on the bed, and when she began to try to struggle to her feet, Ned reached down and lifted her up. She smiled at him in gratitude, and when she reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it off, Ned glanced away. Then his gaze rose to her face again.

"Sleep in here with me," she said, keeping her voice even, not pleading. "If that's okay."

He scratched his palm slowly with the opposite thumb, not quite looking at her. "If you want me to," he said, and his voice was low, his eyes dark and intense when they met hers again.

She nodded. "I do. But you can watch your show. It's all right."

He chuckled softly. "It'll keep."

He went into the living room to retrieve his own bag and turn off the television and lights, and Nancy didn't wait to change into her nightgown. She wanted to snuggle up with him, even if things didn't go any further. But his willingness to join her made her curious.

She pulled the covers back and began to move beneath them, hissing again when she moved her ankle. The accident had been close to a year before, and though she still tried to avoid jarring or stressing her ankle, sometimes it was impossible not to put some strain on it. As determined as she had been to prove that she was still a great agent, her job with the BSU was actually a better fit for her current capabilities.

It didn't hurt that the unit's success rate had gone up since she had joined them. Celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas with her family and friends without rushing to make a flight back the next day hadn't hurt. Reconnecting with Ned hadn't hurt. He supported her more than her casual boyfriends ever had.

She was still nervous when he came back into the room, though. "Here," he said, coming over to the bed and helping her move under the covers when he noticed her struggling with it. "I bet you'll be asleep before I'm even finished brushing my teeth."

"I'll take that bet," she replied, smiling even as her lashes drifted down, and Ned chuckled before finding his toiletries bag and taking it to the bathroom.

She was still awake, but only barely, when Ned returned to the room and stripped down to his underclothes, then turned off the overhead light. She had known him to sleep naked or in his underwear, but generally no more than that; he was so warm when he slept that he didn't need any more.

"Nan?" His voice was very soft.

"Mmm?"

"Want me to sleep on the outside? Or are you already settled?"

"Mmm. No, it's okay," she murmured, and began to move over. The sheets on the other side were cold, though, and she flinched. "All right, you owe me."

"Hmm?"

"The sheets are cold over here. Now you have to warm me back up."

"You're on," he said, and when he moved beneath the covers he reached for her, and she rolled willingly into his arms. As soon as he embraced her, all the tension she had been feeling melted away. She just felt safe.

"Better?"

"Mmm. Mmm-hmm." She nestled against him. "Thanks."

"For warming you up?"

She smiled. "No... for coming up here with me, for staying with me. For not telling me it was too late when I came to see you last year so I could apologize for being such a shitty friend to you. You've been really good, Ned." She sighed. "Being with you has been really good for me."

Ned made a soft incredulous noise. "I'm the one who should be thanking you," he said, and touched her cheek, then stroked his fingers over it, moving blindly in the dark. Her heart felt like it moved into her throat, and she almost held her breath, afraid to break the spell of it. It had been a long time since he had touched her that way. "Before you came to see me that day I was a wreck, Nan. In some ways I know I still am. But you didn't give up on me, either. Even though I gave you every reason to."

She shook her head. "We're friends," she said softly. "Even though I was a shitty friend for too long. And I love you. I've loved you for a long time."

"It's okay," he told her softly, and she felt his lips brush her forehead. "I was lost for a while. For a long time. But I've always loved you."

She heard him swallow hard. "That's part of why I agreed to come with you," he murmured.

"Part of it?"

His thumb was gently stroking her cheek. "I wanted to see..."

Nancy tilted her head back and felt his breath on her skin. She wasn't exhausted anymore. She had begun to feel the moment so strongly, the sensation that this was important. It felt like the first time he had ever kissed her, that terrifying moment before their lips had met, when they had been gazing into each other's eyes, spellbound, her heart pounding. It felt like the first time she had ever felt his fingertips trailing against her skin, so light, against the tender inner flesh of her forearm, over the blue web of her wrist, until she was prickled with gooseflesh, her lips parted.

Ned had been inside her; he had taken her virginity, and he had seen her totally naked, entirely exposed. They had wrapped themselves around each other, lost in the joy of being together. But that had been another lifetime.

And now she felt it again, something that was close to the terror of innocence all over again, knowing but not knowing, desire without a name.

"What?" she said softly, and when she moved her hand it touched his side, stroking against him through his shirt. He was so warm. He had always been so warm.

"No distractions," he murmured. "Just being with you again... lately, I just haven't been able to stop thinking about it..."

"Thinking about what?"

He moved, and her lips parted when she felt his breath against them, his hand on her back, and her heart beating wildly in the cage of her ribs. "About this," he said softly, and then, slowly, tantalizingly briefly, his mouth brushed against hers.

For a second, Nancy was entirely still, afraid to do anything wrong, afraid to screw it up. Before she even knew it the kiss was over and he was stroking her cheek again, and it was almost as though she had dreamed it. Her eyes were closed against the perfect dark of the bedroom, against the gray-black shadows, as she tried to make herself think and consider and do what was right...

But kissing him, holding him, touching him, loving him, had always felt right, had always been right. She had never grown tired of it. The weight of their relationship had just become too much for her to comfortably handle, and she had left it behind, but coming back to Chicago... oh, it had all just been waiting for her.

She thought she was strong enough, now. Finally.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologize," she said, just as softly, and stroked his side again. "When you said you wanted it to just be the two of us on this trip... I was kind of hoping this was why."

He made a soft sound, and his thumb brushed her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "I know you think that you love me more than I love you, and maybe that's true... but it took me a long time to realize that I've never been serious about anyone else because I couldn't be. No one else I've met has ever been as perfect for me as you are. No one else could be. No one else could take the place you have in my heart. Because when I compare them to you, Ned... you were my first. And maybe my love wasn't enough, but if we had committed to each other too early, when we were too young... God, it would have broken my heart."

"Your love wasn't the issue," he said softly. "I mean that. I just thought that you wouldn't be happy with me."

She shook her head. "And when you let me go, I thought it meant that you were letting me down easy," she said softly. "We were so young, and the way we felt about each other was so strong... I thought we had both decided it could never last."

"Because I was too afraid," he said softly. "I would never cage you and watch you hate me for it. I didn't want to see it die, and I thought we had found the only way we could ever save it."

She smiled, tipping her head up to kiss him again. "And we did," she whispered against his lips. "We did save it."

He met her kiss and returned it with another. "I love you."

"And I love you," she whispered. When she closed her heavy eyelids one last time and nestled against him, she almost felt like she could cry. She had made herself forget how this felt. It had been safer.

Because she knew. The peace she felt in his arms was the most dangerous of all.

\--

The next morning, when they rose, neither one of them talked about what had happened the night before, and Nancy would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, a dream that had felt all too real. But they made breakfast together, teasing each other and laughing. When they were together, in public, Ned hesitantly began to reach for her hand, and she squeezed it in return, accepting the gesture. She couldn't stop smiling.

She wanted to do anything and everything that would make him happy, after the long dark winter they had survived, but he told her that he would absolutely go along with whatever she wanted. So they went kayaking in the morning, returning to make lunch at their cabin a little after noon. She had considered horseback riding, but her ankle would cause trouble if she needed to give the horse commands. When Ned suggested they go by a bike rental shop, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? It can't hurt to check."

He found what he was looking for in the shop: a bicycle they could both safely ride that would let him do the pedaling. At first Nancy objected, not wanting him to do all the work, but he promised that if he felt too tired, he would head back.

The trail suggested by the clerk at the bike shop was well-traveled and level, and the weather was nice, not too hot, but still cool enough to make Nancy feel content in her jacket. She took pictures of the scenery as Ned biked around, and when he reluctantly told her that he was tired, Nancy patted his back and thanked him for providing the power. She cursed for the millionth time that she had ever been injured in the accident; otherwise she could have taken over.

They had considered going to one of the local wineries for a wine tasting, but they were both tired after all the exertion of the day's activities, so they headed back to the cabin. Nancy headed to the shower, rinsing away the sweat of the day and washing her hair, and she couldn't help wondering if Ned would join her in bed again, and if they might take things further. She cursed herself again for deciding not to pack a more flattering nightgown, but it didn't really matter, and she knew that.

She caught herself preparing for their dinner together almost as though it was going to be a date, and had to give herself a small nervous smile in the mirror. She blow-dried her hair straight and natural so he could run his fingers through it more easily if he wanted, but she frowned as she gazed at herself in the still-fogged bathroom mirror. She could still find every one of the scars, even the ones that had faded over time; the one on her temple was hidden by her everyday makeup, but when her face was scrubbed clean, it was pale as a blonde hair against her skin. Her hip looked like someone had dug claws into it; her injured ankle didn't match her uninjured one. Her left arm—God, she could still remembered the way it had looked when she had woozily regained consciousness after the accident. She had been in shock, unable to truly understand what had just happened to her, and her shoulder and arm had been slick with blood.

She was lucky. She knew she was. Even so, she lightly traced the scars at her hip with her fingertips. They were visible even under her tiny white satin panties, the front panel white lace trimmed in black; her bra was matching lace, with a criss-crossed satin ribbon between the cups.

Her hip. He would see the scars, if he saw her this way. The doctors hadn't been sure how much some of the trauma would permanently affect her, but her periods had been erratic, and her local gynecologist had said that her fertility had probably been impacted by the injuries to her hip and abdomen.

She had told Ned the day after the doctor had said it to her. Dr. Corlani's tone had been moderate, matter-of-fact. Nancy had merely nodded, as though her stomach hadn't sunk past the floor at the news. 

Nancy had never seen herself as a mother; she had never thought she would make a good one. Her life had always been too chaotic, and on the rare occasions she had been around infants and small children, she had felt nervous. She was afraid that if she held an infant, she would somehow break it or drop it. Their cries just made her cringe, like fingernails on a chalkboard.

But she hadn't been relieved when Dr. Corlani had said she would most likely need fertility treatments, if she ever wished to get pregnant, and the doctor couldn't even guarantee those would assure her of a successful pregnancy.

She hadn't been able to imagine herself as a mother, but she also had still thought she had the time to change her mind, if her circumstances and desire changed. Finding out that the choice might have been taken away from her made her feel sick and sad.

Nancy shook her head at her reflection. _It's dinner,_ she told herself firmly. _Here you are getting worried about things far before they'll be an issue._

But that was part of what she did, planning for the future. If she and Ned decided to pursue a relationship—he had always wanted to be a father. He would want that.

A hundred doubts rose in her as she looked into the blue eyes of her own reflection. She was different now, but she wasn't a completely new person. This was just a stop on her way. She instinctually knew that giving Ned the wrong idea about what she wanted would be disastrous to their relationship, that telling him their timing still wasn't quite right would be the safest thing for her to do.

Their relationship had survived that first change, or it almost had. She wasn't sure if it would survive another.

And he already knew that she might not be able to have children. She had told him after they had eaten dinner together at her apartment that night, and they had been sitting on the couch, not touching, not looking at each other, and the words had spilled out. She didn't understand why it made her feel ashamed; maybe because her father had started mentioning how much he would enjoy spending time with grandchildren, maybe because Bess had always cooed and sighed happily at the thought of having children. She hadn't been able to tell her friends or her family. Only Ned. He had told her that he was sorry, and they had left it at that.

Just another cost. It was as though her devotion and borderline obsession with her career had taken a physical toll on her far beyond the perpetual exhaustion and preoccupation. She hated the thought, and she hated even more that Ned might see it the same way.

Nancy shook her head, then pulled on her green cowlnecked top and jeans. She brushed mascara onto her lashes and put on a pretty berry shade of lipstick, ran her brush through her hair one last time, and gave her reflection a nod. She wasn't going to put concealer over her scars, not tonight.

When she walked into the main room of the cabin wearing fuzzy socks, she smelled a hint of smoke. Ned was standing near the stove, and he had showered and changed, too. He wore a pale-blue-and-white checked shirt with jeans and socks, and he looked more dressed up than she had seen him in a long time.

She had to smile. So he was treating it like a date too.

"Hey," she called softly, and Ned turned to her and gave her a smile.

"Hey. Steak?"

"Sounds great."

She worked on the alfredo pasta side dish while Ned grilled their steaks, and soon they sat at the small table with their dishes. He opened the wine and Nancy took a small glass, while Ned poured himself a larger one. When she took her first bite of the steak, she told Ned he had done a good job with it, and he smiled. When they had been teenagers, his skill in the kitchen and with the grill had mostly been the object of ridicule. Her steak was slightly more done than she liked, but it was still good.

They talked about what they wanted to do the next day, before they departed for home. Ned had seen a sign advertising hot air balloon tours, and Nancy said that if he wanted to do that, they would definitely make sure the company looked legitimate—and maybe pack some backup parachutes, just in case. By the end of their meal Nancy felt relaxed and happy again, but being around him always had made her feel that way. Even when he had been quiet and withdrawn from his mourning and depression, when she had first returned to Chicago, she had still felt a kind of serenity in Ned's presence that she hadn't felt with anyone else.

Bess, George, and Ned had been her best friends for a long time. She understood the way they thought; she could predict the way they would feel. And when she looked into Ned's eyes across that small table, a smile already turning her lips up, she could feel what was in him, too. It made her feel giddy.

"So," Ned said softly, reaching for her hand across the table. "Last night..."

Nancy swallowed. Her heart was beating faster. "Mmm-hmm?"

"I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. I still don't. I guess maybe I should have mentioned it before we left."

She gave him a small smile. "So last night wasn't a dream, then?"

He squeezed her hand gently, smiling too. "Guess it depends on what you dreamed."

Nancy took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do," she admitted. "I don't know what you want..."

He shook his head. "I don't want anything," he told her. "I just want a chance. I want to be with you again. I think I'm finally ready to try. But if you don't..."

Nancy felt it again, that stillness in her, the feeling that so much depended upon her decision. His dark eyes were so sweetly anxious.

"I do want one thing," she told him. "I haven't been able to dance, since the accident."

"Do you feel up to it?"

"Maybe just for a little while," she said softly.

Ned turned on the small radio in the kitchen, trying a few local stations before he settled on one. The song playing was considered classic now; it had been popular when they had been in school, and Ned smirked a little when he recognized it.

Then he came over to her side of the table and offered his hand, and she let him help her to her feet. She knew her ankle wouldn't hold out long, especially since she hadn't taken any pain medication since lunch, but it was nice to feel his arms around her again. She slipped her arms up around his shoulders, gazing up into his eyes.

"Nancy," he said softly, his body swaying gently with hers. "God, it's been so long."

She smiled. "For me, too," she murmured.

"The first time we ever danced, I felt... lucky," he said softly. "Like the luckiest guy in the world, to have such a beautiful girl in my arms. And I felt that way every time. I feel that way now."

She ran her hand over his hair, swallowing her pain. Her ankle was beginning to throb. "Can I ask you something?" she whispered. "Something personal?"

"Yeah, Nan."

She sighed. She could still feel the kisses he had given her the night before, the awareness of them, tingling against her lips. "You... when you were with Miriam... you still loved me?"

He nodded, slowly. "I did," he murmured.

"I don't understand."

Ned kept one arm looped around the small of her back, bringing the other up to touch her cheek, and her heart was beating faster. "You are my first," he said softly. "For the rest of our lives I'll always love you, always. When you went away I loved you, and I'll love you even if you leave again. I had to build a life without you, and she was part of that life. The men you were with, while you lived in Washington?"

Nancy smiled, but it was small and humorless, and she looked away from him. "They didn't... they didn't mean to me, what you did," she said softly. "They were like the guys I met on cases, back when we were dating. Sometimes they were exciting, for a little while... but it never lasted."

"But that was what you wanted."

Nancy couldn't help it. She flushed a little, uncomfortable. "It was what I thought I wanted," she said softly.

Ned shook his head and touched her blushing cheek again. "It _was_ what you wanted," he said. "I know you, honey. I wasn't exciting enough for you. And maybe I'm still not..."

She forced herself to look up into his eyes. "Now _you_ listen, Ned Nickerson," she said. "I don't ever want to hear you say anything like that again. We're going to agree, okay? It was too soon. It wasn't enough or too much or too little. We just... we weren't ready."

"And..."

They turned, just as slowly as they had been, and Nancy's ankle finally gave out under her. She released a soft whimper of pain and Ned caught her around the waist, holding her up long enough to help her to the couch. She whimpered again as she sat down on the edge, then sighed in disappointment.

"What? Do you want me to put some ice in a bag, Nan?"

She shook her head. "I just... we couldn't even dance for an entire song," she sighed. "You say that maybe you aren't enough for me, but look at me. Everything we used to do. I can't go for a run with you; I can't go hiking or swimming or... God."

"Or dancing," he said softly, and Nancy looked up at him, her eyes pricking with frustrated tears. "Do you trust me, honey?"

"Yeah," she said.

He reached down and she released a startled gasp as he gathered her into his arms again, but this time he was holding her so tight. "Wrap your legs around me."

She wrapped her legs and her arms around him, reminded of other times when this had just been a prelude to sex. But she gazed up into his eyes as he began to slowly turn with her again, his arms under her ass, supporting her. "You're not everything you can't do," he told her. "I hate it for you, I do. It really does suck. But you're still Nancy Drew. You're still using those incredible deductive skills to help people. And you're still just as beautiful."

She wondered if he would still say that after seeing her scars. "You were about to say something," she murmured. "When my ankle started hurting."

He shook his head. "It was nothing," he said. "You're still hurting, aren't you."

She reluctantly nodded. "It's better now," she told him. "Thanks. For doing this."

"Hey. I'm not going to turn down an opportunity to have you in my arms."

She smiled. "For so long, I thought that you just wanted to stay friends," she murmured. "I was afraid that I was... that I was misunderstanding you. That when you said you loved me, you meant as a friend."

"And I do," he told her. "But it's more than that... I didn't want to spoil what we've had lately, and I didn't want you to think you were just a rebound."

She gave him a small smile. "I'm not?"

He shook his head. "No. Not at all."

"So what am I, the one who got away?"

He shook his head again. "You're Nancy Drew," he said softly. "And I love you. No matter what."

She gazed into his eyes, and she felt it again. No matter what. "And I love you," she whispered, her voice soft and slow. "No matter what."

His lips met hers, so slowly; he was giving her time to pull away, to avoid it if she wanted, but she tilted her head and closed her eyes when she felt his breath on her skin. They weren't in the dark now; it wasn't a dream. It hadn't been a dream.

They made out slowly, and she ran her fingers through his hair, melting in his arms. When he broke the kiss she could feel him stirring beneath his jeans, against the join of her thighs, and she shivered. A wave of dizzying arousal swept over her, even as her heart clenched in anxiety.

"Ned?" she whispered.

"Sorry. I—I can put you down."

"It's not that." She looked down. "I... I haven't slept with anyone since the accident..."

Ned had still been swaying, if only gently. At that, he stopped. "That mean you just want to cuddle again tonight?" he said quietly. "Because that's okay..."

"No, that's not it," she assured him. "I mean, unless you do. It's just that if you want to go further, um... we need to go slow. And I don't know... I think everything will be all right."

"Or it might not be," he murmured, guessing what she wasn't saying. "Or it might hurt for you."

"It might," she said softly. Then she gave him a small sad smile. "Does that change your mind?"

"Only if you don't want to do this," he replied.

She held his gaze for another moment. "One more song," she murmured. "I mean... if your arms will hold out."

"I'll take that challenge," he told her with a smile.

She laid her head against his shoulder, listening to his heart. Her fingertips brushed against the side of his neck, feeling his pulse, the warmth that lingered and radiated from him. In that year they had been together, learning each other, she had hidden none of her body from him. Anything he had wanted, anything she had wanted, they had tried.

Then she pressed her lips against the side of his neck, his adam's apple. She was still conscious of his hardness between her legs, and she hoped that her arousal, her willingness, would make it easier. Ned released a soft groan, and she felt his lips brush her cheek too. He breathed her name, and the vibration of it hummed all the way down her spine, into the warmth and heart of her.

She was almost expecting it, when he moved so he could lower her to the arm of the couch and his lips found hers, and their kiss was far less gentle this time. She buried her fingers in his hair and he slipped his hand under her shirt, his fingertips trailing up her spine, up to the clasp of her bra. She shivered, nipping at his lower lip.

"Ned," she whispered, and his eyes were so dark as he looked into hers.

"If we have to stop, tell me," he murmured.

"Now? Or..."

"Or whenever." Then he slipped his fingertips under her shirt again.

He kissed her again. She closed her eyes and God, it was _too much_ , just too much, so much. She ached. She felt exhilarated and so, so scared, happy and vulnerable, entirely under his sway. She had told him that once. She had felt an echo of it with other men, but never so strong as it was with Ned.

He had told her that when they were together, when it was right, it was like two joined puzzle pieces, like fingers interlaced. It was perfect, and there was no room for doubt or fear, just the pure joy of knowing that he was exactly where he needed to be. They fit together that way. It didn't just mean sex, but sometimes sex was a part of it. It was being together, spending time together, talking to each other. And the longer it lasted... she had a feeling that once they interlaced this time, once she had found her way back there, she would no longer want to walk away.

The first time, she hadn't walked away and left him; at least, she hadn't seen it that way. The Academy had taken time, but afterward she could have asked to come back. She hadn't, though. She had thought that they had let each other go. And that comfort, that sense of rightness... she had let herself, made herself forget it.

He carried her to the bedroom and as soon as he was close enough, he put her down on the bed and she pulled him down with her, to her. Her thighs were open on either side of his hips, and she was flushed, her fingers in his hair, her heart speeding. They were at once desperate and gentle, frantic and slow. He cupped her hips, tugged at the waistband of her jeans, pushed her shirt up, his kisses warm against her lips, her jawline, her throat.

"Do you need to be on top?" he whispered into her skin, then sucked gently at her neck, near the join to her shoulder. Nancy was finding the buttons of his shirt by touch, his body pressed to hers, and she shivered at his words. "I mean, do you want to be..."

She was panting. "We'll figure it out," she murmured, and urged him up to her again. Her lips parted under his and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, arching up so she could keep unbuttoning his shirt. His hands, oh God, they were everywhere; he shoved her shirt up above her bra, and she quivered at the feel of the cooler air against her skin. He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and she moaned loudly when he dipped his hand beneath and touched her through her panties.

"God, it's been so long..."

"For me too," he whispered. "Okay?"

"Yeah." She couldn't help it; her lips parted, her hips gently arching when he brushed his fingertips over her again. "Oh my God..."

"Here. Let me just..." He left her sprawled on the bed and came back with a handful of condoms and a small bottle of lube. Nancy remembered from when they had been together that Ned had carried them in his toiletries bag, just in case. She had brought a small pack of condoms too, just in case, but they were buried deep in her suitcase.

He flipped on the bedside light, the music still playing faintly from the kitchen where they had been dancing. Nancy used her arms to pull herself more fully onto the bed, looking up at Ned. His shirt was open, and he shrugged out of it and tossed it onto the dresser.

She could remember what he had looked like in their youth—but then she didn't look the same either. He was the man she had loved, the man she still loved, and when she remembered that Miriam would have seen him this way, would have brought him into her arms and held him and loved him, she didn't want to feel upset or sad, but a part of her did.

She hadn't been there for him. And if he was jealous about the men she had dated while they had been apart, he definitely hadn't said—but she hadn't married any of them.

She realized then that Ned's gaze was on her face, and that the smile on his own face had faded a little. "Nan, it's okay," he said softly. "If you've changed your mind..."

She shook her head. "I haven't," she whispered. "I still want this. It's just... there's so much, I guess."

"So much you want?"

"Yeah. So much I want... and so much between us..." She pushed herself up, and when she was sitting up Ned sat down beside her and began to inch her shirt up again. She swallowed, but she couldn't stop herself from doing it; when Ned pulled her shirt off, she looked at his face, watching for his reaction. She knew she would be self-conscious until he finally had her naked, and then after, waiting to see him flinch in disgust when he saw her scars.

_And if he doesn't?_

A part of her wanted him to. A part of him wanted to tell her that he couldn't be with her that way again, because she knew there was a line, and once they were across it...

When he didn't flinch back, she swallowed hard, tears beginning to prick in her eyes. He began to slide her jeans down her legs and she stifled her pained whimper as she pointed her toes, her ankle throbbing, to help him. He whispered an apology, but her gaze rose to his face again as he saw her belly, her reconstructed ankle, the scars on her hip.

"Oh, Nancy," he whispered, and when he touched her hip she felt the first tear slide down her cheek. "Oh, I knew it had to be bad... but I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she said softly, her voice trembling a little. "If you've changed your mind."

He glanced from her hip to her face. "Enough of that," he said. "I want this if you do."

"But you remember the way I was," she said softly. "Before... _this_." She made a quick, almost angry gesture.

He gave her a small lopsided smile. "Like you don't remember being with the quarterback of the Emerson football team," he pointed out. "When I was working out every morning and I had that great six-pack I heard you praising more than once, Nan. I don't look the way I did, either. Does that change the way you feel about this, too? Let's just get it all out there. If you can swallow your revulsion long enough to have sex with a flabby middle-aged guy with the muscle definition of raw dough—"

"Stop it," she told him, wiping her tears away. "That's not what you look like."

"And what do you think you look like?" he asked. "Is that was this is, the fear I see in your eyes?"

"I look like I was stitched together, like Frankenstein's monster or something."

"I'm pretty sure you _were_ stitched together," he pointed out. "But you aren't a monster. I know it's not perfect, okay? I know this probably isn't the way you wanted..."

She reached for his hand and he trailed off, looking up into her face again. "Truce," she said softly. "Let's try that, okay? No more... I'll stop beating myself up if you do."

"Okay," he said softly. "Truce."

She sniffled, and Ned reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table, pulling one out for her. She wiped her wet eyes and nose, then sniffled again.

"My mascara's a wreck, isn't it."

"A little," he told her, with a small smile. "Sorry."

"I'll be right back," she told him. "Just don't go anywhere. Okay?"

"Okay."

Her mascara wasn't just a little bit of a wreck, she noticed, but she washed her face thoroughly, dried herself off, then returned to the bedroom. Ned had taken his jeans off, and when she limped back in Ned immediately stood up, coming over to help her.

"It's okay."

He gave her a small smile. "You sure?"

"You said yourself that maybe this isn't the way we would have chosen," she said softly. "But I don't really want to do this all screwed up on pain medication. I want to feel it. And for as long as you still want this..."

He reached for her again, lacing his fingers through hers. "Then come here," he said softly.

He laid her down and he kissed her, everywhere, _everywhere_. The strange still desperation came back to her, like the night didn't hold enough hours for all she wanted, all they could be together. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone; he unhooked her bra and kissed the soft indentations where the straps had rested over her shoulders. He kissed her breasts and she twisted her fingers in his hair, tilting her head back. He kissed each nipple gently, softly. He kissed the flesh between her breasts, down over her belly. He kissed her belly button, nuzzling against her, down to the black lace band of her panties.

He kissed the scars on her hip; he kissed her inner thighs, her knees, her ankles. While the flesh there was still throbbing, she just released a soft sigh, looking down at him, the golden light catching in his dark hair, reflecting from his shoulders.

On his way back up, Nancy released a soft moan as Ned parted her legs, nuzzling against her inner thighs. When his lips touched the join of her thighs through her panties, she opened her legs wider, shivering. Too much. Too much. Not enough.

He looked up at her and smiled, hesitantly at first, and she smiled back at him. "Take your underwear off," she told him. "And get on your back, Ned."

He did as she asked, and she moved onto her side and kissed his cheek, his shoulder. He threaded his fingers through her hair as she kissed his neck, and she moved over him much the same way he had done her, kissing him, exploring him. Learning him again. Feeling his lips all over her, touching every part of her that had made her feel self-conscious, had been nice, and if he felt the same way, she thought it couldn't hurt.

She swirled her fingers over his skin, drawing spirals against it as she nuzzled against him. She chuckled against the dark hair of his legs, the plane of his hip. Whenever her breasts brushed against his bare skin she felt him move restlessly, reaching for her. When she was finished, she pushed herself up to look into his eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," he said. "Always."

She began to crawl up over him, but she winced. When she was on top of him, there was no comfortable way for her to hold her foot. He noticed and cupped her hips, rolling her gently onto her back, and her stomach tensed before she relaxed.

"Like this?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Like this."

She parted her legs so he could kneel between them. She still wore her panties, and the thought of being naked in front of him was still scary—not quite so much as it had been, but still. She hadn't had so much as a bikini wax or trim since the accident; she hadn't seen the point. She didn't plan on wearing a bikini again, especially in public.

But, she remembered, she hadn't had a bikini wax or trim or anything before the first time they had been together in bed. And in some small way, it felt like their first night again.

He wasn't who he had been, and neither was she. It was her first time in this new body, in this new life, her first time with this version of him.

There was so much. They had had so much, and the weight of it had been too much for her to take before.

He leaned over her and Nancy slipped her arm around his neck, gazing up at him. She knew the mechanics of it, easily, but she didn't know if it would hurt. Her legs were sprawled wide, but then Ned moved onto his side, and she kept gazing into his eyes.

The first place he touched her was her bare breast, and she fluttered her lashes, releasing a silent sigh. Her nipple was already hard, and he slowly brushed his thumb back and forth over it, then leaned down to kiss her lips.

Nancy ran her fingers through his hair, feeling another dizzying wave of arousal crash over her, centered between her legs. The sensation was different, when she was exhilarated from finding the solution to an open case, catching a suspect in an implicating lie, when all the pieces came together. It was brief, intense, but shallow. When Ned had been with her those times, when she had still been restless after, he had wrapped his arm around her waist and held her to him, kissing her forehead, stroking her sweat-damp hair from her temples. He had whispered to her that she could relax for just a few more minutes; he had loved holding her, and even though she never would have admitted it to anyone else, she had loved it too.

He took things so slowly with her. She drew her opposite leg up, her uninjured ankle, and began to gently rock her hips in anticipation; he switched to her other breast, still slowly making out with her. She reached down and hooked her thumb in the waistband of her panties, almost ready to inch them down herself; Ned moved down to kiss each nipple again, then moved his hand beneath her panties.

Nancy moaned again, more loudly that time, already feeling slick and tender and, she hoped, ready for him. His thumb brushed feather-light against her clit and she gasped, her other hand lightly clasping his forearm as she dragged her nails gently down his spine. When his fingertip gently traced the slit of her sex, she gasped again, tilting her hips up.

"Nan," he whispered, then gently nipped at her lower lip. "Oh, sweetheart..."

She tipped her head up and Ned kissed her deeply. She relaxed under him, her stomach tensing as he gently brushed one fingertip at the entrance of her sex, then gave it a more firm swipe. She could feel the tender, almost painful awareness of her arousal there, and when he brushed against her clit again, his fingers were slick with the proof of it.

She gasped wordlessly against his kiss, her lashes fluttering down, and he worked against her clit in teasingly light strokes until she pressed her hips up against his hand. He kept stroking her with the ball of his thumb as he traced the slit of her sex with his fingertips again, and when he began to work one finger inside her, she groaned, pressing her fingernails against his shoulder blade.

"Good?" He was gasping.

"Mmm. Yes," she sighed.

Using slow, gradually increasing strokes, he moved his finger in and out of the slick press of her sex, until he had worked the entire length inside her and felt her clench around him. He repeated the motion with two fingers, working her up to the girth gradually, and she mewled and whimpered, her hips jolting when he drew her tight nipple into his mouth and suckled against it gently.

She was grinding against him when he finally worked the full length of two fingers inside her, and he pulled back, leaving her nipple wet and tingling with arousal. He was still circling her clit with his thumb, and Nancy knew she was flushed; her cheeks were burning, and she couldn't stop panting.

"Good?"

"Yes, oh God yes," she moaned. "Please don't stop."

He moved to the other breast, and she released a soft cry when he began to work three fingers into her. She tilted her hips back and forth, shivering, and when he squeezed her right nipple between forefinger and thumb while suckling the other and fingering her, she began to sob. She chanted his name, her skin prickling with arousal and sweat, and shoved down the side of her underwear; she could hear the wet sound of his fingers working in and out of her slick tender sex, could feel it, and the feel of him teasing and fondling the most sensitive parts of her body was so intense that it blotted out everything else. The pain in her ankle became a dim, distant throb. The quiver of her dried tears faded. She couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't stop gasping in pleasure.

"Oh God, so good, so _good_ ," she groaned. "Ned, fuck _fuck_ that is so good..."

She didn't want it to hurt. She prayed that it wouldn't. She felt tight between her legs, but it had been a while. And she didn't think he would mind that.

The tension built and built as she rocked her hips with his thrusts, and he was panting against her; she knew his hand was getting tired when he stiffened his fingers and thumb and she was almost fucking herself against them, but the sensation was incredible. She was still sobbing and crying in pleasure, and when Ned released her breast so he could peel her panties down, she shuddered under him, hoping that it meant he was ready.

He kept his fingers inside her as he worked her panties down, and once they were free of one ankle she spread her legs wide, wincing when she had to flex her sore ankle, but then he knelt between her thighs, drawing her clit into his mouth and sliding the fingers of his other hand inside her.

Nancy released a high, loud keening cry, her hand fisting in his hair as she bucked under him. "Fuck oh holy _fuck_!" she sobbed, arching and tilting her head back, his fingers plunging in and out of her, his tongue stroking her clit. She was so close, so fucking close to her orgasm, and then he gently bit her and she let out a loud scream, her inner flesh clenching tight around his fingers and releasing in a quick throb as she came. He kept eating her out and she cried out again, her legs falling open, her hips still moving gently under him. When he brought the hand that had probably cramped from fingering her so long up to caress her breast, she whimpered, bucking as she idly used her free hand to pluck at her other nipple. He had learned, over the year he had spent as her sexual partner, to give her the most incredible orgasms, to build her up until she was screaming at the pleasure and then to keep going until she reached another.

She remembered that before he had liked it when she had done it, so she reached for the hand he had on her breast, his fingers still warm and slick from her arousal, and brought it to her mouth so she could draw his index finger between her lips. She sucked on it with the same rhythm he was using against her clit, her hips circling and rocking, and she felt Ned groan against her.

She kissed the ball of his thumb, then sucked that too. Tasting the musky tang of her sex on his fingers felt both dirty and erotic, and he brought his thumb up to continue fondling her clit as he worked his way back up her body, licking the traces of her arousal from her breast as she sucked his middle finger. She knew she was flushed with desire, glowing with it, and when he slipped his fingers out of her and rubbed them over her clit, swirling her slick arousal over the pink nub, she groaned again.

"Are you ready, or do you need a break?" he murmured, pushing himself up on his knees, and she looked up at him. She would be pinned under him, powerless...

"I'm ready if you are," she gasped, her hips still grinding wantonly against his hand.

"I can keep touching you if you'll get the condom," he told her, and then he chuckled when she immediately flung her hand out and located one on the bedside table. She ripped open the packet and it took her a moment to make sure she had it right; she felt self-conscious as she rolled it onto his cock with swift strokes, and once it was fully on, she felt herself clench in anticipation, another wave of arousal making her sex slick and ready for him.

"Lube?"

"I think we're gonna be okay," she gasped, and Ned finally stopped caressing her and lifted her hips, positioning himself over her. She took a deep breath, looking up into his eyes.

"I love you."

"And I love you," she whispered, just as she had the first time they had made love, but this time she wasn't nearly as tense, or anywhere near as afraid. "Oh my God..."

Dimly she was aware that they had already crossed the line, but then she felt his cock at the entrance of her sex, felt him begin to move between her legs, and there was no turning back, would be no turning back from it. He moved over her and she slid her arms around him as he moved inside her, slowly, cautiously. She met his eyes to encourage him, her lips parted, and she was panting harshly.

"Nancy," he whispered, gazing into her eyes, and she could see it in the way his jaw flexed, in the line of his shoulders, how he was holding back. "Oh my God, _Nancy_..."

"Yes," she whimpered, and he moved deeper than his fingers had been inside her and she tensed a little again. She felt a little sore, but it wasn't nearly as intense as the pain she had felt when she had lost her virginity to him. He held himself still as she adjusted to him, and when he held her up with one hand and used the other to brush against her clit again, she let out a loud, sobbing cry.

"Oh my God, oh my _God_ please," she begged him, angling her hips. She wrapped her legs around him, hissing at the pain when she accidentally bumped her injured ankle.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, _please_ ," she gasped. "I'm okay, just _don't stop_..."

She was able to keep the grip of her legs with her thighs and knees, and Ned lowered himself over her, brushing his fingers in another teasing-light caress against her clit.

She sobbed again, her body tensing and releasing his. "Ned," she moaned, and then he arched over her and kissed her, the taste of her arousal on both their tongues, mingled with the wine. She twined herself more tightly around him as he moved deeper inside her, and for a second she felt a flutter inside her, realizing that she was pinned and trapped beneath him, but the anxiety passed and then he was fully inside her.

God. When it was like this, it was incredible. She was still tender and wet from before, and he was perfectly joined to her, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers gently stroking her clit. Her sex throbbed around him with every stroke of his fingers, pulsing faintly, and the pleasure was so intense that she hardly wanted to move. She just wanted it to be like this.

Then he pulled back for a thrust and she quivered, moaning when he moved inside her again.

It wasn't as though the years hadn't passed, hadn't happened, but when he began to move inside her in steady firm thrusts, the time and all that had passed between didn't matter. He was the only man, the only one. He was her lover and he knew exactly what she needed, because he had been the one to teach her, and God, it was _perfect_. He moved inside her until she clawed at him, until she sobbed hoarsely, begging him for release; she heard the wet sound of his strokes, felt him fill the tender hollow of her sex over and over again, and her arousal rose until she had her head tipped back, her eyes rolled back, her hips and shoulders jerking with his thrusts. She cried out loudly, and her scream was almost silent when she came again. She distantly heard him cry out too, felt his hips jolt against hers, and she knew he had come too.

She couldn't catch her breath; she couldn't move. Her legs were already loose around him and Ned panted for a moment, then slid out of her, rolling onto his side. She moaned, her hips sinking back to the mattress, sweat cooling on her skin. Her eyes were closed; she heard Ned strip off the condom, and when he touched her a moment later, she was so oversensitized that she flinched before opening her eyes and turning to him.

"Was it okay? Are you okay?"

Nancy took a breath and coughed; she had gasped for breath so long that her throat was dry. "I'm okay," she said softly, and she didn't know why she suddenly felt shy. Maybe because, before, he had always held her after they were finished.

He moved closer to her, slipping his arm around her. "Cold?"

"Mmm. Yeah, a little. I need to clean myself up..."

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then rolled out of bed, releasing a soft sigh. The euphoria of her climax was still lingering, but she was more conscious of her ankle now. When Ned returned to her with a cloth, she gave him a smile.

"Would you mind bringing me a glass of water and—"

"Medicine? I'm sorry. I thought you might have hurt yourself..."

After she took her medication, she sat at the side of the bed and took a few deep breaths, shivering. The cabin wasn't freezing, but it wasn't all that warm either. She could hear Ned in the kitchen, taking care of their dinner plates; she hissed as she hobbled on her injured foot, finding her nightshirt. In the bathroom she brushed her teeth, and when she met her reflection's eyes, she made a face and tried to smooth her mussed hair. She was finally starting to feel closer to normal again, but that meant her anxiety had returned too.

_What have you done? What did we do? What does it mean?_

She didn't have the energy to consider it. She walked slowly back to the bed, then climbed between the sheets on the inner side. When Ned slept with her, he liked sleeping on the outside edge. With a sigh she pulled the covers up over her, up to her chin. Her sex felt a little sore from all the exertion, but it wasn't a bad kind of soreness.

She wanted him to hold her, but a part of her hoped that she would fall asleep before he returned to the bed. Her ankle was throbbing so much that she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until her medication kicked in, though.

She hadn't even noticed the music until it suddenly clicked off, leaving the cabin heavily quiet. She kept her eyes closed as she heard Ned walk through the bedroom to the bathroom; she listened as he brushed his teeth and splashed his face. The soles of his feet scraped gently over the hardwood floor, and she heard him linger in the doorway before he walked into the bedroom. Then he released an almost silent sigh and clicked the light off before joining her in bed.

"Nancy," he breathed, and for a few seconds she considered just playing asleep for a while longer. She really was exhausted. Then she felt his fingertips brushing lightly over her, up her arm to her face. He seemed afraid to touch her, afraid he would disturb her, and Nancy made a soft sound and rolled onto her side, facing him.

"Hey. Sorry."

"Mmm. 'S'ok," she murmured, and when he slid his arm under her, she cuddled against him.

"You all right?"

"Mmm. Okay," she sighed. When he stroked her hair, she nestled against him. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he whispered. But she had known him a long time, and she heard something in his voice. She couldn't help it; she opened her eyes to the perfect dark, and though she couldn't see him, she could still feel him.

"You don't sound okay," she whispered slowly.

He kept stroking her hair, and he didn't answer her. She looped her arm over him, stroking her fingers up and down his spine. She was too tired to say anything else, especially if he didn't feel like talking. They had decided to have sex, and she hadn't sensed any hesitance on his part, but his silence now was frightening her a little.

She had enjoyed it. She had thought that he had too...

And maybe, she realized, that was the problem.

He moved down on the bed, and she felt his breath against her cheek; his thumb brushed her temple, his forehead touching hers. When he whispered her name, the sound of it on his lips made her tremble.

She whispered his name too, touching his cheek.

When they had dated, when they had been together as teenagers, she had taught Ned not to depend on her. When she made promises to him, promises to show up for dates or other appointments, to cheer him on at his games or anything else, she had often been delayed or prevented from keeping those promises. Eventually he had learned not to ask anymore. She had done everything she could not to depend on him, either. Ned was the most dependable guy she had ever met; if he made _her_ a promise, he would do anything to keep it. But she hadn't wanted that. She hadn't wanted the burden or the guilt of his devotion.

And when they had reunited, neither of them had been able to deal with that responsibility. It had been easier that way. Easier to fall into the rhythm of a standing date, casual, no stakes, nothing public. Nothing that would disrupt their lives.

But he wanted to try again, and she knew. Ned had been married. Ned had learned how to spend his life with someone, when Nancy had done everything she could to build her life alone. In the process of getting to know him again, though, Nancy had come to depend on him in a way she never had before, and he on her.

For the first time since his wife's death, if she understood. He had slept with another woman for the first time since his wife's death.

She tried to remember how strange and bittersweet it had been to sleep with someone else after Ned... but that wasn't how this had been for her. For her it had felt like coming home, to be in Ned's arms again. She wondered if it felt like the opposite to him, if it felt like a betrayal of the wife he had loved.

"Come here," Nancy whispered, and she held him tight to her, the throb in her ankle distant and softer as the medication reached her. "Please, talk to me. Please."

He sniffled, and Nancy's heart clenched hard. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," she murmured, keeping one arm around him as she brought the other hand up to stroke his cheek. "Do you regret—what just happened?"

"No," he replied, and while his voice was still quiet, it didn't waver. "I don't regret it."

"Good," she said softly. "So that's not why you're upset."

He didn't answer her, but she felt him breathe. She closed her eyes against the dark, trying to remember what he had told her, what he wanted. What he needed.

"You asked me for a chance," she said softly. "And I didn't really answer you, did I. Ned, I've never done this _right_. Not with you or anyone. I'm more comfortable with what we just did in bed than I am talking about how I feel. I guess you know that."

"Yeah," he murmured. "I do."

She sighed. "It's easier to never get close," she whispered, and inside she was trembling. She wasn't lying; it was incredibly hard for her to talk about. "It's easier not to need this. I had you and I let you go. I had this incredible guy in my life and I didn't have the space or the heart to give you what you needed. But she did. Miriam did. A part of me... is so jealous, but more of me is glad. I'm glad you had someone in your life who could love you the way you needed. Because I wanted you to be happy. More than anything else, I wanted you to be happy."

Ned made a low hoarse sound, and she pulled him closer, holding him to her, kissing his forehead and his temple. "I keep telling myself that she wouldn't have wanted me to do this," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"To do what?" Nancy asked softly, afraid to hear his answer.

"To feel like all I deserve is to be depressed and sad... to feel guilty every time I feel joy again." He sniffled again. "To feel guilty for enjoying making love to you."

"She loved you," Nancy murmured. "You're the most lovable guy I know, so I'm sure she did." She smiled when Ned chuckled. "And because she loved you and I do too, I know that maybe she's a little sad that she's not the woman in your arms right now, but she would want you to be happy."

Ned was quiet for another moment. "You said you haven't done this right," he said softly. "Does that mean you don't want to try?"

Nancy's heart was beating harder as she considered. It would be easy to just say yes; it would be easy to just say what he wanted to hear.

_And when that call from Tarkelian comes?_

But it might never come. She was beginning to understand that. It was possible that what she had in front of her right now wasn't just a stop on the way to her life's destination. She had been fighting the idea so hard for so long, but Ned... Ned had let her dig beneath the scar tissue she had left him in. He had let himself open to her.

She owed him the same.

Ned sighed when she had let the silence go on too long. "Okay," he whispered. "I get it. Okay—"

She touched his cheek. "Yes."

He cut off whatever he was about to say. "What?"

"I said yes," she repeated slowly. "I want to try. But I... I don't know what that means, not really. And you..."

"I what?"

"I feel like you'll never love me the way you loved her," Nancy whispered, every word slow and almost impossible to speak. "That I'll just disappoint you. I don't want to disappoint you."

Ned moved suddenly, and Nancy gasped; he had surprised her, and she had been warm and cuddled against him. He rolled over and clicked on the bedside lamp, and she blinked at the sudden brightness.

"What do you think it is that I'm expecting?" he asked her, his voice gentle. "How do you think you're going to disappoint me?"

She shook her head, looking at his chin instead of into his eyes. "Because that's all I did before," she said softly. "I know I did. You were always there for me, and I was never there for you. I agreed to be your girlfriend, and then..." She sighed.

"Unless you plan on acting the same way you did when you were eighteen, I think we're gonna be okay," he told her, then touched her cheek. "Please look at me."

She sighed again, raising her eyes. "I don't plan on that," she said.

"And... yeah, honestly, when you came back, I didn't think it would be forever. I still don't. I... God, for so long, all my happiness was tied up with—her. I hated that I actually looked forward to seeing you. I treated you the same way I treated all my friends; I just waited for you to get sick of putting up with me. But you didn't. I waited for you to tell me that you had to work and couldn't see me, or any number of other things. You didn't. You went _out of your way_ to talk to me, when I didn't make it easy for you. So yeah, I'm pretty sure you aren't that girl anymore.

"And that's part of what I meant, when I said that I always loved you more."

She nodded, then sniffled.

"I never wanted to ruin what we have, but when I said I wanted a chance... I guess a part of me doesn't really have a label to put on it, either. I guess just to try being in a relationship with you again, to... to show you how I feel about you without it turning into something awkward between us. Above all of it, though, Nan, I want you to be happy. Please don't spend all our time worrying about disappointing me."

She touched his side again. "But—you don't think this is forever..."

"I know I'll always love you," he said. "I know _that's_ forever. But the rest of it... nothing else is guaranteed to us. I know that now. If you found a better opportunity, I'd be disappointed for you if you didn't take it."

"At work, you mean?"

"At work, or... when you look over one day and decide you don't need some depressed guy sharing your bed..."

She cupped his cheek. "And when you decide you don't want some cripple sharing yours," she replied, her voice trembling a little.

"You aren't."

"I am. You want kids; I know you do, you always have, and you might never be able to have them with me. I'm helpless and fucking dependent and..." She cried out in frustration.

"So what?" Ned shrugged. "If we ever make it to that step, Nan, we can look at our options, maybe adopt a child. But it was by the grace of God that you survived that car accident, that you aren't in a wheelchair now. If you had just given up on life at that point, if you were just in bed waiting to die, that would be different, but you're not. Because you're a fighter. Didn't we call a truce?"

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah. And you're the one who broke it," she pointed out. "But what you were saying sounds like you mean that when some better thing comes along, a job or someone else... but I don't see us that way. Do you?"

He searched her eyes, then shook his head slowly. "You aren't a rebound to me," he told her. "Or just the best I can do for now. You are the best I can do, period. You are."

"And so are you," she told him. "You're so... God. You're everything. And I would gladly have just stayed your friend for the rest of my life just to make sure you were always in it, just to make sure we never fucked this up again. No, that's wrong. That _I_ never fucked this up again."

He gave her a small smile. "Our timing was wrong," he said softly.

"So that's the story and you're sticking to it," she said, smiling too.

"Yeah, it is. But I'm glad we did meet when we did, Nan. If I hadn't known you..."

She studied him as he trailed off, and her thumb brushed his lips. "I'm glad you were my first," she said softly. "You treated me like a princess, and you deserved to be treated a lot better. But I'm glad you were the person who taught me how to love. I've never met anyone who could ever have been better for me, and it's never been a question, not for me. I've never looked at any other man and thought, 'Could he be the one?' Because I already knew that you were. And when I thought that I'd lost my chance..."

He touched his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes. She was exhausted, but this was too important to let her sleep. "But I know you, honey," he said softly. "You don't do anything that you don't want to do. You didn't ask me for another chance, because you didn't want one. Not with me."

She sighed. "But we were going to meet again," she said softly, slowly. "Ten years to the day, in that same bar. And I didn't come." She opened her eyes again. "Were you there?" she asked, her voice even softer, flinching a little.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I bought a beer and kept looking at the door even though I knew you wouldn't show, waiting for someone else to run into me from my old life. I didn't stay too long. But I hadn't heard from you in a while, and I knew you were happy... and the appeal of trading war stories at that point had faded, a little. I wouldn't have been good company, anyway."

"But you were there anyway."

"Of course," he said, simply. "I told you I would be, and I was."

She tipped her head up and kissed him. "I'm here now," she whispered. "I know it probably doesn't mean as much, now..."

"Of course it does," he told her softly. "I know I would have found a way through somehow, but I'm glad you reached out for me when almost no one else would. That means a lot more to me than meeting for drinks and bullshit and then saying goodbye to you for another ten years would have. So, so much more."

\--

They returned to Chicago the next day, and their life returned to the same patterns. They made dinner together two nights later at his apartment, just the way they usually would have, but the charge between them was different now. Ned came up behind her while she stood at his stove, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck until she giggled; a couple of times they ended up making out on the couch and totally lost track of what they were doing.

After dinner they were on the couch, pretending to watch television together, until she reached for his hand. They left half their clothes in his living room, the rest on the floor beside his bed.

There was no name for what they were to each other, now. Before, she would have called him her friend, one of her best friends; now they were beyond that. Technically they hadn't been in a relationship since she had returned to Chicago. Technically, they had been in a relationship for a long time.

She went down on him that night, kneeling with her knees at the edge of the mattress to keep from stressing her ankle, Ned's fingers laced through her hair. She licked and nuzzled against him, exploring and tasting him, savoring him. He was hard with desire for her, and he groaned when she stroked and swirled the tip of her tongue against the head of his cock, feeling him tense under her as she tasted his pre-cum.

She took her time with it, massaging the base of his cock, caressing his balls. She wanted him to feel the same pleasure he had given her that night in the cabin, and when he stiffened, gasping out a warning, she kept going until he had spent himself in her mouth.

She went to his bathroom to wash her mouth out, and when she returned to his bed, favoring her weak ankle, she had to smile. Ned was still sprawled on the bed, his eyes closed, totally naked.

"God," he whispered. "Man, that was incredible."

"Thanks," she said softly. "So you actually made up your bed for tonight."

"Every now and then, I remember how to be romantic," he said with a small smile. "C'mere."

She climbed into bed with him. He had managed to strip her down to her panties, and it felt good to nestle against him, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. He looped his arm around her waist, holding her to him.

_Nothing is forever._

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes. The only thing she knew was that she had his love, and he had hers. He had all her love, and when she was with him, she felt more vulnerable than she had with anyone else.

Ned made a soft noise and began to stroke her hair. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. But I vote that you do all the work from here on out. I've had a long day."

"Oh, I think you've definitely earned that," Ned said, and kissed her forehead. "Did I mention that was incredible?"

"Maybe."

"It was." He kissed her forehead again. His next words were only a breath above a whisper. "I'm so happy to be with you right now."

"I am, too," she whispered. "Especially if you have plans that involve getting me out of these panties."

"Oh, they _definitely_ involve that."

"Tell me more."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "They involve spreading those beautiful legs wide and rubbing my chin against your clit," he murmured. "Sucking on it and stroking it with my tongue and my fingers until you're wet as fuck."

"Mmm-hmm," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "That sounds like a great start."

He pulled her more fully on top of him, and she kissed his neck, moving her foot so her ankle wasn't flexed. She wished she could ride him; she wished she could try anything they had done before. He trailed his fingertips down her spine, then dipped them beneath the elastic band of her panties. She let out a soft sigh as he ran his palm over her bare ass. The sensation made the join of her thighs tingle.

She moved up to kiss him, parting her legs so she could straddle him, and soon he had her panties shoved down to bare her ass, his large hands cupping it and pressing her down so she ground against him harder. Nancy shivered as she moved with him, the fabric barely covering the slit of her sex; when she shifted, her clit rubbed against his bare skin and she gasped, then nipped at his lower lip.

After that, he flipped her over, stripped her naked, and went down on her until she was screaming full-throated, the sound of it muffled by one of his pillows. Her legs were spread wide and the arm that wasn't holding the pillow tight against her face was reaching down, her fingers grasping his hair as he ate her out.

When she was trying to gasp her breath back, her legs still sprawled and his saliva cooling between her thighs, Ned kissed his way back up her body, over her hips, her belly button. Her nipples were still so sensitive that even the weight of his breath made her flinch and arch a little under him, and she looked up into his eyes, her own wide.

He kissed her shoulders, her throat, her cheek. Then he moved onto his knees between her legs, and she shuddered in anticipation.

They didn't have forever, only today, always and ever today.

Afterward, they were both slick with sweat, twined around each other, gasping for breath. She kissed his breastbone and he stroked the small of her back, her leg looped over his hip.

They only had today. But if she didn't let him go, she wanted to believe they could have tomorrow too.

\--

Over the next weeks, their relationship began to evolve. She packed a small bag to keep at his place when she was spending the night with him, and he did the same. Their Saturday nights bled into lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed, naked and making love until they absolutely had to part, he to visit his parents in Mapleton and she to meet Bess and George. They ran errands together, and though they spent a night apart every week, it became that rare for them not to share a bed.

They didn't put a label on it, although Bess definitely did, once Nancy told her two other best friends a little about what was happening. Nancy didn't know if Ned felt the same way she did, if labeling what they were would make her nervous about commitment again. She didn't feel nervous about it when she was with Ned, but when she was alone—

She didn't doubt him or his love for her. But she felt like this simply wouldn't last. He was recovering, and she wouldn't be enough for him. He had started seeing his old friends again, when he wasn't with her.

That was part of it. They hadn't gone out as a couple. They _weren't_ a couple, but they were, in every way except the name. She loved staying in with him, making dinner, and now making love—but she was beginning to see him as though he had been an injured bird she had nursed back to health. He was getting better and she never would. Her life in Chicago hadn't only depended on him, but now, seeing so much of him... she found that she couldn't say no, that she didn't want to say no when he asked if she wanted to come over to his place.

They only had today. She wanted all the todays, and she hated it, the clinging desperation. She hated that the happiest time of her entire week seemed to be the nights she spent with him.

And she remembered that Ned had said the same thing. He had learned that depending on someone else for his happiness would only leave him depressed. He needed more friends, more people around him, and she had been happy when he had found that—and now...

She didn't know what to do.

Nancy was about to shut her computer down, that Thursday afternoon at her desk. She and Ned had been sleeping together for a month, and he had already told her that he was going out with his friends on Friday night. She had casually asked about it, and he had told her easily that he was going out with the guys to shoot pool and drink; it wasn't that girls weren't allowed, it was that they weren't invited by mutual consent. When the weather was warmer, there would be parties, backyard barbecues, poker nights; he would want to go and she would go with him if he asked, but she could easily see him not asking. He would want to drink, and she couldn't be designated driver; all the people there would remember him with Miriam, and Nancy was just his old girlfriend, brought back to Chicago by a permanent injury, relegated to a desk job.

It was easier for him to see the people he had known before. He was better, now. He was slowly becoming the guy she remembered, and Nancy would never be the girl he had known again. He was working out, and she couldn't. He was recovering, and she never would.

But, she knew, he would text her any minute, and she would go to him, because she wanted to be with him for as long as she could.

The email notifier pinged, letting her know she had received a new message, and Nancy's pointer hovered over the Shut Down button before she changed her mind and looked at the email. The sender was Diane Tarkelian.

Nancy felt sick and excited, all at once.

_Nancy! Glad that spring has finally arrived in Chicago. Your supervisor is still in love with you, and feels like he owes me one for sending you his way. He might not be so happy, when he finds out about this message._

_You asked me to let you know if a suitable position opened up in this office. Well, today is your lucky day._

Nancy read the rest of the email, her heart beating so hard, a low sound like a roaring in her ears; she had to read it two more times, because she wasn't able to calm down long enough to understand it. She could be in Washington again. She could accept Tarkelian's offer and transfer back. She could be with her team. Due to Nancy's physical condition, Tarkelian had even managed to write a car service into the offer. Nancy wouldn't be chained to an apartment near the subway, always on the lookout for any man who might want to mug or assault her, her hand always on her service weapon. Nancy was tempting prey and she knew it; she had dissuaded one potential mugger a few months earlier by flashing her gun where only he had seen it, her eyes like steel to hide the quivering of her fear.

She could be with her team again, _her_ team. No more butting heads with Terry. No more depending on Ned or Bess or George to be around so she could run errands. No more constant _pain_ , thanks to the medication she was afraid of taking if she needed to be alert enough to navigate public transportation.

She would be free.

_Hey, hamburgers OK tonight? I can get them on the way._

Nancy stared at her phone for a long moment, still feeling almost like she was in shock. If she saw Ned tonight, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from telling him. But she needed time to figure out what she wanted to do, how to tell him. If she even wanted to tell him.

She had been looking forward to seeing him the entire day, because there was nothing else, nothing else for her. If she made this choice...

_Sorry, think I'm getting a stomach bug. I'm going to go home & sleep. _Nancy winced as she typed the lie, but her stomach really was churning. _Rain check?_ she added before sending.

_I'm sorry, Nan. I can bring you soup?_

_No, pls don't, don't want you to get sick. Thanks though._

_OK. Feel better soon. Love you._

Nancy took a deep breath. _Love you._

They had never been promised forever.

\--

Nancy was tempted to duck out on Ned's call that Saturday, but she finally sighed and answered the phone. Ned asked if she was feeling better, and she told him that she wasn't yet; he told her that she sounded miserable, and she couldn't disagree. He offered again to bring her some soup or run to the grocery store for her, but she turned down his offer, telling him that she didn't want him catching it.

The desire to see him was strong, but her fear was stronger. She still didn't know what to say to him. It reminded her of the span of time between receiving the acceptance letter to Georgetown and telling her boyfriend that she was leaving.

They had survived it, but barely. This time, to unknit herself from him and walk away—it wouldn't be painless, wouldn't be bloodless.

On Sunday, when she knew Ned would be in Mapleton, Nancy called George and asked if she would mind taking her to the grocery store so she could buy that week's supplies. Tarkelian had told Nancy that she could hold the position for her for a week; if Nancy hadn't decided in that time, the listing would be made available to other agents so they could apply, and it would be up to her to earn it with an interview. It was generous, and she was incredibly grateful for the advantage, even though a part of her was irritated that she needed it. But she knew that she did. Under some arcane rules, she probably counted on a spreadsheet somewhere proving that the Bureau would employ physically disabled people, and even that knowledge made her uncomfortable. Her work with the BSU depended on her reasoning abilities, not her body.

George agreed, and when she texted Nancy to let her know that she was at the curb waiting, Nancy made her way out to her friend's car as quickly as she could. She wore a faded Georgetown sweatshirt and jeans, sneakers and a ballcap; she hadn't bothered putting on makeup. She hadn't been able to talk to anyone else about what she was thinking about, and she hated that.

"Hey Nan. So your boyfriend's out of town, huh?" George glanced over her left shoulder at the traffic before pulling out.

"He's not my boyfriend," Nancy muttered.

George cast a quick glance over at Nancy before she looked at the road again. "Sorry. You two have a fight?"

"No, no fight. I just..." She sighed. "I have a lot on my mind. By the way, thanks for doing this for me; I know it's a drag..."

"Nan, seriously. It's all right. I don't mind it. Plus, it let me get out of a baby shower, so it's definitely a win-win."

"A baby shower?" Nancy swallowed. "Anyone I know?"

George shook her head. "Well, not really. A cousin on our moms' side. I think you met her once, but it was a long time ago. So picking you up let me send that stupid pastel gift-card with Bess. God, I fucking hate going to those things."

Nancy relaxed a little. "Yeah, me too," she admitted.

"The tiny outfits and all that random shit? It's bad enough to watch, but I feel bad for the chick having the shower, too. Having to act surprised and happy at the _fifth_ pack of diapers and wipes, or a pack of hideous onesies. Not that the wedding showers are much better. 'Oooh, a coffee maker! Now Trent and I will have something to do when it's too drizzly to make our morning run to Starbucks for a venti caramel soy latte!'"

Nancy had to laugh. While Bess was almost unfailingly sympathetic and understanding, sometimes George's more caustic outlook was easier to take. "Why do you think we have to watch them open their gifts, anyway?"

George shrugged, flinging a hand up into the air in a helpless gesture. "I think maybe it's for grandmas? Have to do something to get them out of the house so they stop crocheting doilies for five minutes, or whatever the hell. Nan, when I'm a grandma? Well, strike that; I'm never gonna be a grandma, or heaven forbid a mother. When I'm a senior citizen, if you catch me crocheting a doily? Take the damn needles or hooks or whatever the hell they are away from me."

"That's a deal," Nancy said with a smile. "As long as you do the same for me."

"I think you'd rather stab a suspect with a knitting needle than make anything with it," George pointed out. "Besides, you're gonna be a grandma. I remember Ned talking about how he wanted a big family one day, unless that changed."

Nancy looked down at her hands. "Yeah," she murmured. "I... well, probably he will have a big family one day. It just won't be with me."

That was something else she had been considering while she thought about her decision. Ned would find someone else easily, now that he was socializing again. He could find himself another Miriam, if Nancy moved herself out of his way. But this time, she hoped, he could find a woman who would give him that house full of children she knew he wanted. Who could be his equal and give him everything he wanted.

George parked at the grocery store and turned to Nancy with her eyebrows raised. "Okay, I know this isn't usually my thing, but what the hell is going on, Nan? Seriously, was there a fight? I didn't mean to upset you, but you already sound really upset right now and you know how that makes me—tense." She shuddered a little.

Nancy shook her head. "It's not that," she said. "Ned and I didn't have a fight. I... I guess I kind of just wanted to take a break. I haven't told him."

George's eyebrows rose a little higher. "Did you meet someone?" she said, her voice a little softer.

"No! No. Fuck, I know I'm not going to meet someone else. It's just—I probably can't have kids, okay?"

George gasped. "Oh. Oh holy fucking shit I am so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—oh my God, I didn't know. So, the accident...? I'm sorry, it's none of my business—"

Nancy nodded anyway, reaching up to wipe her stinging eyes. "Yeah. Complications from the accident. It's just... God... I don't know where to start."

Once they had found a cart and headed into the produce aisles, Nancy told George about the job offer. What surprised Nancy was that it didn't seem to surprise George at all.

"So you're gonna take it."

Nancy opened her mouth, closed it, then tilted her head. George was considering a bag of oranges, then glanced at Nancy, just as casually as she had made the comment.

"What?"

"You didn't even—ask," Nancy said, her voice a little weak.

"How long have we known each other?" George said, raising her eyebrows again. "You loved it there. The very few times I ever saw you there, you looked happier than I'd ever seen you. And it's not that you haven't looked happy lately, but you were happier there. When Bess and I were driving you back here last year, I remember you saying more than once that you were going to go back to Washington as soon as you could." She shrugged. "So it's been great to have you here, because we missed you a lot, and it'll suck when you're back there because we won't be able to see you nearly as often, but it's not like we didn't expect it."

"I was happier there," Nancy said, and she knew it was true.

George nodded. "So that's why you said break, huh?"

"Yeah." Nancy pursed her lips at the orange-red tomatoes, bypassing them. "I haven't figured out how to tell Ned yet."

"But you are gonna tell him," George said, and there was only a hint of a question in her voice.

"Yeah. I am." Nancy felt curiously still, with the decision put so cleanly in front of her. She had been happier there. That was where she was meant to be. She and Ned had served their purpose in each other's lives, and of course they had felt that attraction again. Of course she had been unable to resist that pull again.

And he had told her that he would be disappointed in her if she didn't live up to her potential.

Before George dropped her off, she made Nancy promise that she would let her know about the job, so she and Bess could plan a little going-away night on the town for her. Nancy agreed, walking into her apartment with her shopping bags, looking around it and imagining packing all of it again. Taking it all back with her.

Bess and George had come to visit her in Washington, when Nancy had been able to take the time off work so she could actually see them. Maybe Ned would too, if she asked...

But she wouldn't. Once they were unknit, they would drift apart, just as they had before. Another meeting in a bar in a few years, catching up on their lives. Finding out about his new wife. Having to see him and know that he was trying to find happiness again with someone else.

Slowly Nancy walked to the kitchen and began to put her groceries away.

She would tell Tarkelian her decision, but she owed it to Ned to talk to him first.

She waited until Tuesday to do it, at lunchtime; Ned asked if she was feeling up to dinner via text message, and told her that if she was still feeling sick he was going to bring soup or something over to help her feel better, whether it made him catch what she had or not. The bite of sandwich in Nancy's mouth was suddenly tasteless as sand; she made herself swallow it, then picked up her cell phone to text him with a reply.

_My old boss emailed me. I have a job with her again if I want it._

Ned's reply took several minutes to reach her, so long that she wondered whether her message had gone through, or whether he was angry at the abrupt way she had told him.

_Oh_.

And that was it. For the rest of the day, Nancy kept checking her phone, but he didn't say anything else and she was afraid to say anything else to him yet. Of course he would need time to process the information. Of course things wouldn't be so easy this time.

She knew that going back would be the right choice, that she would be happier there, no longer a burden on her friends and family. She could devote herself to her work again. Her teammates would appreciate her efforts, not pity her. It was what she needed.

But she felt miserable during the trip from her workplace to her apartment, more miserable than she had felt in a long time. She would be leaving Ned behind again, but it would be worse, because they had been so much more...

She was imagining what his answer might be if she invited him to the little going-away night out that Bess and George were going to have, pulling her key out of her pocket, when she noticed something in the hallway.

Not something. Someone.

Ned was sitting on the floor beside the front door of her apartment, his back against the wall. She saw a bouquet of flowers in his hands, pure-white lilies against deep blood-red roses.

Her heart was in her throat, choking her, and she couldn't even whisper his name before he was looking up at her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said softly. "I thought this might be the easiest way to see you."

Nancy swallowed hard twice, then nodded at the flowers in his hands. "Those are pretty," she forced out.

He glanced down at them, as though he had forgotten he was even holding them. "Can I talk to you, Nan?"

She nodded, taking another deep breath before she keyed into her apartment. He brought himself to his feet and followed her inside.

She had made up her mind. The choice had been easy; on paper, it was simple. But she had gone over it in her head a hundred times, and still, still...

"I don't—have a vase," she murmured, and she went to the kitchen to find a pitcher and fill it. Her mind was racing, but it was going nowhere; she didn't know what to think, and she didn't want a confrontation, didn't want him to be mad at her. Oh God, the first time, she had been happy when it had been so uncomplicated, so easy. She had been so afraid of disappointing him when he had asked if they could be together again, but she had never been capable of doing anything else.

When he followed her into the kitchen, she almost dropped the pitcher into the sink. She had overfilled it, so she tipped a bit of the water out and put it on the kitchen table. Ned handed her the bouquet, a sweetly self-conscious expression on his face.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "Thank you."

"I knew you liked lilies," he said.

She placed the flowers in the pitcher and fussed with them just so she would have something to occupy her hands, something to forestall what was coming. When she turned to him again, her eyes were already pricking a little with anxious tears.

"I... Nancy..."

He cleared his throat, and when Nancy realized she had her arms crossed, she had to make a conscious effort to drop them to her sides. Ned was looking down, his discomfort radiating off him, and she couldn't say anything that would make it easier, not for herself and not for him.

"Your old boss contacted you on Thursday, didn't she."

Nancy flushed a little. "Yeah," she said softly, looking down. "I should have told you then, but I didn't know what to say."

"I'm sure it was a lot to process," Ned said. "I... look, Nancy..."

He trailed off and Nancy waited until she couldn't wait any longer. She glanced up at his face, and the expression she saw there was enough to crack her heart.

Then Ned slowly took a step toward her, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, her heart in her throat again.

"I know..." He shook his head and started over. "Nancy, if you ask me to, I'll go with you," he said. "I... I want to be with you; I want to have a life with you. And if that means moving to Washington, I will."

"Ned," she sighed, shaking her head, a tear tracking down her cheek. "You know I'd never ask you to do that. To move away from your friends and family and the people you care about, to make you find another job when we're lucky to have jobs? Just to be with _me_?" Her voice broke, and she sniffled. "You don't deserve that."

"And it would be no burden at all if it meant I could be with you," he said, searching her eyes. "Flights go both ways, after all, and the past few years have shown me who my true friends are. But I want you to be happy, Nancy, and if being with me hasn't made you happy..."

She shook her head again, a pair of tears slipping down her cheeks. "Of course being with you has made me happy," she said. "The happiest I've been since the accident has been with you. But all I've been is a burden to you, and you don't want to be—official, with me, and if I go back to Washington, you can be free..."

She noticed the slight rise in his eyebrows when she said the word _if_ , not _when_. "You _aren't_ a burden," he said. "You aren't. You're so concerned about being one that you bend over backwards to make sure that you _aren't_. And I've been free, Nancy. I know that I'd much prefer to be with you, but only if that's what _you_ want."

Nancy opened her mouth and considered the lie. A white lie, a lie to save them both hurt feelings and resentment.

Because she _wanted_ to want the freedom and independence she had seen for herself in that life in Washington, but it was never going to be the way she remembered or the way she imagined. She didn't want to need Ned. She didn't want to feel the weight of his love for her, knowing how bitter it could become.

He was still holding her hand. "And what makes you think I don't want to be 'official,' with you?" he asked softly.

"You... we..." She made a soft frustrated sound. "You didn't ask."

"You didn't ask _me_ ," he replied.

She chuckled, but the humor was tempered by frustration. "I guess we should sit down," she said, moving toward one of the kitchen chairs. She collapsed into it, feeling weary and overwhelmed and achingly nervous all at once.

Ned pulled out the chair beside hers and sat down too. "I thought it would be better if we took things slow," he told her. "I mean, I love you and you love me. What we've had so far, I thought was good. Better than good, honestly. And if you want to make this official, I'll make it official. In whatever way you want."

"I think that's probably a moot point," she murmured. "A fuck buddy doesn't generally move several states away just to stay together."

"So that's the title you landed on, fuck buddy?"

She shrugged, shaking her head. "No. I don't know. Friend with benefits, maybe. Secret girlfriend."

Ned sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's easier for me if I go out with my friends when it's just the guys," he said quietly. "Sometimes there are other things, but I... I guess I wasn't quite ready for that yet. My friends' wives were friends with Miriam, and seeing them again..." He sighed. "But I didn't even ask you about that, and I'm sorry."

Nancy shook her head immediately. "I'm sorry. I just thought... I don't know. That you didn't want to be seen with me."

Ned released a low humorless chuckle. "Oh, detective," he said softly. "So perceptive when it comes to anyone else. I like cooking with you. I like hanging out with just you. At first it was because I genuinely didn't want to go out, but I didn't know it was getting on your nerves that much. If I'd thought you were up for it, I would have given you the whole nine yards... it's just that it didn't work out so well for us the first time, and I thought this was. But I would gladly do it again." His brown eyes were open and sincere. "I'll buy you flowers, candy, chocolates, whatever you want. I'll take you out to the nicest restaurant in Chicago, once I have enough money saved up to afford it. But until you tell me what you want, I'm not going to _know_ , all right? The only thing I know for sure, other than the fact that I love you, is that I want to do everything I can to _not_ screw it up this time."

She took a deep breath. "Okay," she said softly. "I was sad you didn't invite me out with your friends, but I didn't realize it was because you're still dealing with some issues there. I want to believe that I'm a modern independent woman but I still think it's sweet when you buy me flowers or little things that cheer me up—not the big things. Not like a meal at Les Nomades or something that would make me feel shitty the entire time, thinking about all the money you were spending on it. I didn't think I cared about what we called _this_ , until we weren't calling it anything and I didn't know what I was to you, and I hated myself for caring.

"And no. I wouldn't ask you to come with me to Washington. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

Ned reached for her hand. "Nancy," he said softly, and she saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Because I'm going to stay here, with you."

Ned shook his head, his eyes widening. "No," he said quietly.

"Yes," she said, and gave him a firm nod. "Yes. I laid awake in bed every night telling myself that it was going to fix everything, but it isn't. It wouldn't have. It won't make me better; it won't fix my busted ankle or anything else. The job I would be doing there is almost the same as the job I have here. Although I might call in a favor and ask if Tarkelian can get me a car service here, because that was part of her offer and it sounded really fucking sweet."

Ned had to chuckle. "But I heard you," he said. "I heard you swear that as soon as they would have you back, you'd be on the first plane..."

She smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah," she said. "And maybe I would have. It _fit_ me, before. It ate me alive, and I loved it. And I had no _time_. No time for anything else.

"Here? Here I can go somewhere over the weekend with you and not worry about what I'm missing at work. I can see Bess and George for lunch or brunch or whatever. At Christmas I didn't have to hop a plane back to Dulles as soon as I swallowed the last bite of pie. And it's actually _nice_. It's _nice_ to walk out of the building at five-fifteen and go home for the day, instead of bolting down some shitty takeout and heading back in to spend the next four hours fueled by shittier coffee. And maybe I felt really close to my team there, but _here_? Here I have genuine friends, the kind who have seen me at my absolute worst and not just given up on me." Nancy sniffled and looked down. "Tarkelian kept in contact with me, but everyone else? One email, maybe two. Then they were on the next case and I was left behind."

Ned nodded. She knew that he would understand how that felt.

"So, no. No, I wouldn't ask you to come with me and become a part of that, because what you were afraid of? That's _exactly_ what it would have turned into. Broken dates, missed reservations, apology after apology until you started asking yourself why the fuck it had seemed like such a bright idea in the first place, to leave the people you've known all your life behind just so I could see you for the thirty minutes we might be sharing the same bed before one of us had to go back to work.

"George pointed something out to me. She said that the happiest she had ever seen me was when I was in Washington, that I'd been happy lately too, but I had seemed happier there." Nancy took a deep breath. "And I was happy there. I didn't have time to think about anything. I didn't have _time_ , period.

"And for the past month or so, since we came back from the cabin... I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to decide that I'm not worth it and you want to find someone better. Or... for this." She made a little gesture. "For that offer I would find impossible to refuse, and knowing that I would have to choose you and this—or a life that I knew wasn't made to fit you."

Ned reached for her hand. "How many times do we need to go over this?" he asked, tempering his words with a smile. "You keep doubting my judgement when it comes to you."

She gave him a sad smile. "Because you're going to wake up one day and realize that it was important," she said softly. "Having kids. Going dancing. Having a girlfriend who can drive her own fucking car, for one."

Ned looked away from her for a few seconds. "I know there are ways to put hand controls in cars, so that's not an insurmountable obstacle," he said. "I told you, if we decide we want kids, my heart won't be broken if adoption turns out to be the best option. In fact, I think it's pretty great, that we would have a chance to give a child a loving home, a second chance at a good life.

"And maybe the way we dance together isn't appropriate in public, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it any less. It's pretty fucking hot, actually." He gave her a smile. "But the one thing I _never_ want you to do is stay here with me and start resenting me for preventing you from having that incredible life you had, once upon a time."

Nancy shook her head, sniffling. "As much as I hate to admit it, I like who I am with you," she said softly. "That I'm with the kind of guy who would insist on bringing me soup even if it meant coming down with the flu. The kind of guy who would bring me flowers instead of giving me the silent treatment for handling this so badly."

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. "So I guess today is the day for all the scary things to come out," he said. "Nan, I... I want to build a life with you. The more I think about it, the less it makes sense that we have separate apartments. I want to be with you. I'm not saying next week, but..."

She gave him a slow, wide smile. "You want us to move in together?"

He nodded. "For good," he said. "A nice place in the city, or a house that we could make easier for you to navigate."

Nancy's eyes flooded with tears, and she gasped in a breath. "Ned," she whispered.

"I know. It's a lot and it's scary and I'm sorry if I'm going too fast..."

Nancy shook her head. "No," she said softly, and she came over to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back hard, and she buried her wet face against his hair. "Oh my God..."

He kissed the hollow of her collarbone. "If you had asked me to, I would have walked away again," he said softly. "It would have broken my heart, but I would have. Nan, please say it. Tell me you want to be with me, either here or there. Tell me we can stop pretending..."

She sniffled again. "You mean pretending that I ever want you to leave, or that leaving you is ever easy? Pretending that the thought of living with you makes me so happy, and actually a little hot?"

Ned chuckled and kissed the lowest point of her shirt's neckline. "A little?" he murmured against her skin.

She squirmed a little on his lap. "Yeah. Yes. I want to be with you here. As your girlfriend..."

She was looking down at him, and then he tipped his head back to look into her eyes. "And, one day... do you still react like a vampire in sunlight at the sight of an engagement ring?"

She smiled at him. "Well, I might; there's only one way to find out." She rested her forehead against his. "Maybe give me a year to get used to the idea, first?"

"That's fair," he said softly, then tilted his head and kissed her.


	2. epilogue

Ned looked around the living room. All the decorations were where Nancy had specified. A twig wreath decorated with orange berries hung above the mantel, a pair of candles at each end. Small bronze lanterns had been placed on the coffee table, the end tables, in the center of the dining room table. The punch bowl, cups, and napkins were set up. The crackers were out; the cheese cubes were in the refrigerator. He had already put the candy in bowls.

Nancy had fretted that her preparations weren't enough, that the guests would be disappointed, but he had told her not to worry. It was a housewarming party, after all. The fact that they didn't have a corner full of half-unpacked boxes meant they were ahead of the game.

The circumstances meant he was surprised she had still wanted to have the party at all. She had insisted, though, and he hadn't had the heart to tell her no.

He turned when he heard her wheelchair roll across the threshold from the bedroom. "Do I look okay?"

He smiled at her. "Sweetheart, you look great."

She glanced down at her outfit, picking an invisible speck of lint off her knee. She wore a copper sequined tank top under a ruffled black cardigan, and a long black denim skirt. She wore a sequined black ballet flat on her left foot; on her right foot, the heavy support boot was braced against the wheelchair's foot rest.

Then she looked up at him, and he came over to her. "Feeling okay?"

She nodded. "Just nervous," she admitted, and smiled at him. "You look good."

Ned glanced down at his own outfit. It was their house, and he hadn't dressed up too much for the party. He wore a pair of decent jeans and a dark-green-and-black checked shirt, and when Nancy beckoned him down, he obediently leaned over so she could adjust his collar. Then she patted it and gave him a little smile.

"Now you look great."

They heard the doorbell, and Nancy's smile immediately became nervous. "I'll get it," he said, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Of course you will," she retorted, but she was teasing him.

For the past few weeks, after a fall that had twisted Nancy's injured ankle, the pain in it had become steadily worse. She had been referred to a specialist who had taken several scans and told her that the pain was probably due to nerve damage. She was scheduled to have surgery on Wednesday morning to help correct the problem, but in the meantime she had been told to keep weight off her ankle. Nancy had reluctantly agreed to use the wheelchair until the surgery took place, especially when the doctor had said that he would have less to repair and the pain would be reduced if she didn't stress her foot further.

Ned had been the most cheered by the doctor's cautious prediction that, if the surgery went very well, she might be in less pain than she had been before the fall. She had been trying to wean herself off her pain medication anyway, nervous about the likelihood that she would become addicted to it, and he knew she hated taking it anyway. She hated being weak in any way.

The house had taken a while to find, but Ned was pleased with it. The previous occupants had been a retired couple, and one of them had used a wheelchair, so the house was outfitted for Nancy's ease of use. A low-sloped ramp had been added to the back porch. The bathroom had hand rails, and the shower a seat for her and a handheld shower head. Half the kitchen and bathroom sinks were lowered so she could reach them more easily. The house did have a second floor, but they were using it for storage and a guest bedroom and bath; a track had been run up the staircase for a chair that could transport someone up and down, but the chair itself had been taken by the previous occupants. 

It had been a good price, too. The retired couple's children had taken over the house when their parents had moved to an assisted living facility, and since the house was in a nice but somewhat older neighborhood that was a little less convenient to the city than newer subdivisions, Ned had placed the winning bid. The neighborhood was quiet enough that Ned could take a morning run without worrying about all the traffic—and if he and Nancy were raising children in this house, they would feel a little safer letting the kids play outside.

It had a modest yard in the front and back, with a small overgrown bed that could be cleaned out for a vegetable garden. It was nice, not opulent but not cramped. And, best of all, he was sharing it with Nancy.

Before, with Miriam, they had wanted a new house, and they had bought a house that was only a few years old, in a cookie-cutter subdivision a few minutes closer to the city than this one. He and Miriam had painted every room; the nursery had been painted a soft green, and she had put a large tree decal on one wall. So that even when the baby was born in winter, he would know that spring would come.

The winter had been so, so long after Miriam and their child had died. It had only begun to fade into spring when Nancy had come back into his life.

Mike and Jan O'Shea were at the door when Ned opened it. "No wrong turns, huh?" Ned said to Jan with a wink, opening his arms for a hug. She had called him two hours earlier, double-checking the directions and sighing that Mike would get lost if she didn't.

"No wrong turns," she said with a smile, giving him a hug. "Where do you want the wine?"

"Kitchen counter," Ned said, as Jan moved past him and he extended his hand to Mike. "Hey, buddy."

"Hey." Mike gave him a genuine smile. "Nice place. The balloons out front were a nice touch."

"Although he was very good and found the address before we even saw the balloons," Jan said generously. "Hey Nancy."

"Hi," Nancy said with a smile. "It's good to see you, Jan."

Jan gave Nancy a hug as Ned closed the door behind Mike. "Uh, coats in the living room—right, honey?"

Nancy nodded. "The cooler?"

Ned had stocked the cooler with beer, soda, and bottled water. "It's in the kitchen. You want something?"

"No, not yet. It's okay."

Bess was the next to arrive, with her husband Xan and cousin George in tow. "Good thing you have such a big front yard and the ground's frozen solid," George said as soon as she walked in, pulling off her knit cap and fluffing her dark hair. "I think there were three cars behind us."

Initially Ned had asked if Nancy wanted to keep it small and casual, but she had said it was important to make it a fresh start. So she had invited a lot of her friends, and Ned his friends and a few of his closer coworkers. His friends had said that Nancy had been a good influence on him, and what Ned heard was that she had drawn him out of his grief and depression when they hadn't, when they couldn't.

He was grateful to her for it, but he had decided to let it go where his friends were concerned. They hadn't known what to do, and it had been easier not to do anything. Now, though, they had responded enthusiastically to the invitation to come to a party, to celebrate. Nancy had been right about that. It was a new beginning, a way to show there were no hard feelings and close that chapter.

Soon the house was full of people. Many of Ned's Omega Chi brothers had settled in and near Chicago, and he had invited them and their wives. Nancy had invited her old friend Helen and several friends from high school; she hadn't kept in close contact with them over the years, but Bess and George had, and many of them had apparently accepted the invitation out of curiosity.

Whatever trepidation Nancy was feeling, and Ned knew she was feeling a lot of it, she kept it under control and greeted their guests happily. Ned kept an eye on her, but between answering the door, making sure the punch and snacks were refilled, and making conversation with the guests, he didn't have time to do much more. Ned had hooked his computer up to the stereo system and had started a playlist, but it was nearly drowned out by the persistent hum of conversation and laughter. That was a good sign, Ned knew.

George agreed to take over door-answering when Ned ran to the bathroom and did another round of checking the snacks and drinks. Several guests had brought wine, a few had brought liquor, and the recycling bin was already overflowing with empty beer cans. Ned hadn't met some of his coworkers' and frat brothers' wives before, and when he glanced over at Nancy again, it looked almost as though she was holding her own court. From her hand gestures and the expression on her face, he could tell that she was describing a case she had worked to the guests seated on the couches and chairs near her, their faces reflecting rapt attention.

He knew she missed it. Her detective work and then her job at the Bureau had been everything she had wanted for so long, and Ned knew that while she had become happier with her current career, she still remembered her time in the field fondly. If he could have granted her any wish at all, anything, he would have made her whole again, taken away the pain she felt every second of the day that she wasn't medicated.

Twenty minutes later, the house was actually starting to feel too warm, to Ned anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he had been around so many people. The television was on in the living room, and Howie was in there, surrounded by other Omega Chi brothers, listening to him recount the winning play from the big game their senior year. Clear tumblers full of wine or punch were everywhere, on tables and shelves and the mantel, in the hands of their guests. Ned's second beer of the night was in his hand, and while he was starting to relax, he had forgotten how much work it was to host a party. He had wanted to have fun with his guests, but more especially with Nancy—but when he looked where she had been, he saw only three obviously drunk girls dancing to the song playing on the stereo. She was nowhere to be found.

He checked the living room and was pulled into a conversation there for a few minutes, but he still didn't find her. When he went to their bedroom, she was just wheeling into it from the bathroom.

"Hey."

"Hey, there you are. Doing okay?"

Nancy scooped her hair back from her face and nodded; she had taken her cardigan off. "Yeah. Boy, there's a lot of people here, huh?"

Ned nodded. "And I don't know half of them, I think. Everyone seems to be having fun. I missed you, though."

She smiled at him. "I missed you, too."

He came over to her and leaned down to plant a kiss against her neck. "Think maybe we could dance together later?" he murmured against her skin.

Nancy giggled and ran her fingers through his hair. "Later, definitely," she said. "But we've got to get back out there, so stop trying to distract me. Otherwise Bess and George will barge in here and interrupt us in about five minutes..."

"They wouldn't," Ned murmured against her cheek. "I had a talk with them after that last time..."

She pushed at his shoulder, but she was laughing when he kissed her mouth. Neither of them heard the bedroom door open.

"Oh, sorry—hey!" The voice, at first apologetic, became accusatory. "If she said no, she meant no."

Nancy and Ned broke apart, and Nancy blushed. "It's okay, it was just—"

"She's okay," Ned said at the same time. Then he realized who had interrupted them. "Hey, Marivel."

"Ned! Oh." Marivel shook her head, blushing too. "I'm sorry. It's just, I don't know, I walked in and saw..."

"You saw me in a wheelchair shoving a guy who was kissing me. It's okay. Thanks for standing up for me." Nancy smiled at her. "You must be one of Ned's friends?"

"Yeah," Ned said with a smile. "Marivel, this is my girlfriend Nancy. Nancy, this is Marivel... my sister-in-law."

"Oh!" Nancy's blush deepened. "Oh. Hi, Marivel. It's nice to meet you."

"You mean the most awkward meeting ever," Marivel said with a small smile. "Sorry about that, and sorry I'm late; I took a wrong turn or two on the way. I was trying to find the coat room."

Ned took her coat and tossed it on the armchair at the foot of the bed. "The living room is a mob scene, so you can just leave it in here," he said. A few large purses had been stashed in their room too.

Marivel was shorter and more curvy than her sister had been, but their faces were very similar, and the sight of her made Ned's heart hurt a little. He shook hands with Marivel's husband Oscar, then went to the kitchen to check on supplies again.

Miriam's family was large, warm and welcoming; he had towered over most of them at the family gatherings, but he had enjoyed celebrating with them. During the summers they had held massive family meals and dared him to try their spicier family recipes; at Christmas, Miriam had always made sure she had gifts for her cousins, aunts and uncles, and all the children, even if they were small presents.

He loved Nancy with all his heart, and always had. The way he had loved Miriam had been different, but that hadn't made their relationship and marriage any less important to him. He still missed her, but the pain of losing her had faded a little. He was happy with Nancy, and he knew that Miriam and their child were together, that she wasn't in pain and she wouldn't begrudge him the happiness he had found with Nancy.

Ned was glad when he didn't see any awkwardness between Marivel and the other guests. Some of them had met her before and knew who she was; she had been the matron of honor at her sister's wedding to Ned, and she had been happy to mug for the camera and dance with Oscar with wild abandon.

" _Abuelita_ misses you," Marivel told Ned, when he was making another cycle through the guests. "You'll come by at Christmas?"

"I'll try," he said. "I know it's been a while."

Marivel nodded. "Your girlfriend, is here with you? Lives here with you?"

Ned nodded. "She and I have been friends for a long time," he told her. "I think we'll be getting engaged, sooner or later. I... you know I love your sister."

Marivel touched his arm. "I know. And if you had to be with a _gringo_..."

She was grinning, and Ned gave her a little playful shove. "Hey. Be nice."

"I am being nice, _cuñado_. But I'm glad to see you happy again. I miss her so much, and seeing you reminds me of her."

"So does seeing you," Ned admitted. "Thanks for coming to the party. And I hope... well, Nan—Nancy, she's glad that I had Miriam in my life, even if it wasn't for long enough. I know it might be awkward if I brought her over to see _abuelita._ "

Marivel shrugged. "Only if it might hurt her feelings, but we would welcome her. Does she like spicy food?"

"She's usually game for a challenge," Ned told Marivel, his eyes sparkling. "But if you make her cry, with hot sauce or anything else..."

Marivel shook her head. "Oh, never. Never. She already has to put up with enough if she's with you."

Marivel giggled as Ned chased her back to Oscar, then went to check on Nancy again. She had a tumbler of punch in her hand, and Helen was showing her something on her phone, and she and all the other girls around her were laughing, including Jan.

About two and a half hours into the party, Ned started checking the departing couples at the door, making sure at least one of them was sober enough to drive. Everyone went over to Nancy to give her a hug or a kiss or a handshake, to tell her that she looked good, and to thank them for holding the party; Ned received more of the same, along with backslaps and questions about when the next party would be. He could remember when this kind of party would have begun at seven o'clock at night and ended at six the next morning, when there hadn't been questions of babysitters and sick children, when a six- or twelve-pack would have been the housewarming gift instead of a nice bottle of merlot.

They were growing up, all of them. They liked to reminisce, to tell the same stories over and over, but the other parents spoke a different language, too. They talked about homework assignments and daycares and carseats.

Ned's little boy would have been packing a small primary-colored backpack, swinging a bright lunchbox. They would have been going to soccer games and t-ball games.

Helen mentioned their own babysitter on the way out, and promised Ned that she had finished her second glass of wine an hour ago. She and her husband wished Ned a good night, waved to Nancy one last time, and headed out to the ocean of parked cars in front of Nancy and Ned's house.

Marivel hugged Nancy goodbye and told her it had been nice to meet her, and hugged Ned even harder on her way out. Oscar wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders as they walked out to their car.

Soon George, Bess, Xan, Mike, Jan, Howie, and Shayna were the only ones left. Howie gave Nancy a hug that left her giggling, telling her to get better soon, and she nodded as she agreed. Bess and George helped Ned clear up, gathering the tumblers and crumb-laden paper plates and throwing them away, tossing the discarded beer cans in the recycling bin. When they were finished, Bess confirmed that they would have brunch the next Saturday, and the three of them agreed.

Ned had his occasional nights out with the guys, just like Nancy had her shopping days, her lunches and dinners with Bess, George, and sometimes Helen. But once he had known that she wanted to come along, he had invited her to the couples' parties he had attended over the summer. He hadn't gone to many, and she had been disappointed when the pain in her foot had made her unable to stay for a long time, but she had told him that the gesture had meant a lot to her. And she had been sure to show him, too, mostly with some piece of slutty lingerie when they were together in bed afterward.

Once Ned had waved goodbye to the last guest and watched the taillights vanish at the end of the street, he closed the front door and leaned back against it. Nancy had wheeled her chair to just beside the large overstuffed armchair, and was looking at it, clearly planning to sit in it. Ned walked over and scooped her up, and she smiled as he deposited her in the chair. "Want to put your feet up?"

"Yeah," Nancy sighed. "Mmm. Oh, dammit, no. I want to sit with you. I'm sorry." She looked up at him.

The armchair reclined, but so did each seat in the loveseat. Ned scooped her up again and put her down on one side, then went to the kitchen to draw her a glass of water and bring her pain medication. She made a face, but she took the pill anyway.

She let out a long sigh as she pulled the lever that released the footrest, and Ned sat down on the couch near her. She leaned against his side and he slipped his arm around her, kissing the crown of her head.

"So I think that went well," he murmured.

"Yeah," Nancy sighed. "It did. That should hold 'em for a year, you think?"

Ned couldn't help laughing. "Maybe. We'll see. Feeling okay?"

"Mmm. Yeah. I'm tired, but if I go to bed, I want to either be having sex with you or sleeping..."

"Or one followed by the other," Ned suggested. "Not ready for that yet, though?"

"Not yet." She put her hand on his knee, tracing the bone of his kneecap with her fingertips. He watched the motion, and he almost felt hypnotized by it; the buzz from the beer had worn off, but he still felt warm and happy. "Ned, how can I be a mother?"

Her voice was small and a little scared. Ned kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders, though, and began to stroke her upper arm slowly. "What do you mean?" he murmured, keeping his voice soft too.

"I can't chase a toddler around, not like this. I... babies are sweet and everything, but I've always been afraid that if I held one for more than a minute or two, I'd... break it, or something. I just... Helen was showing me baby pictures, and if we're going to try to have kids I know we need to try soon, but I just... I think about it and I..." She sniffled.

He moved so he could look into her face; she was looking down, and he touched her chin and tipped it up. "Nan, if you don't want to have kids, I would never force you to do that."

"I know you wouldn't, I just... I wish you could do that thing you do sometimes. Tell me how it's going to be all right and I don't need to worry about it, how everything's going to be okay."

"Well, if that's what you want..." He leaned down and kissed her. "Then I'd tell you that if you're nervous about being pregnant, we can adopt a child who's old enough to _not_ need you to chase him or her around. But when... when I found out that Miriam was pregnant, I was scared out of my mind."

"You were?" She searched his eyes.

"Of course I was. I'd never been a dad before. I was afraid that I wouldn't know what to do, that something would go wrong, that I wouldn't be good at it. I practiced... I practiced reading to our baby while she was still pregnant." Ned looked down. "Miriam came from a big family and her little brothers and sisters called her _madrecita._ 'Little mother.' She was really excited, and she started doing all the nesting things practically as soon as she found out she was pregnant. She told me I'd be a natural, but it didn't help. Especially not when I was at the hospital and she was gone and I was watching them do everything they could to save our little boy." He took a deep breath. "They let me hold him, when they knew there was nothing else... and I looked down at him and thought that he was so incredibly fucking fragile, but he was perfect, he just wasn't strong enough yet... and I felt like I'd done something wrong, something so incredibly fucking wrong, if I had to watch him die..."

"Oh, Ned," Nancy whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. "Oh God, Ned. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her in return, his face against the crown of her head. She was warm and breathing and alive in his arms. He loved her so, so much. "And if you ever did get pregnant, I would spend the entire time praying for you," he whispered. "Praying for you and our child, that whatever I was being punished for doing, that it wouldn't be taken out on you."

She moved in his arms and kissed his cheek. "You can't think of it like that," she told him softly. "You just can't. Sometimes terrible things happen. I truly don't believe it was a punishment. No one deserves that."

Slowly they released each other. "I was thinking about it tonight," he murmured. "He would've been in preschool. When I heard the guys talking about their sons and daughters taking karate and ballet and going to soccer practice and scout meetings, that was what I thought about."

"And you... I've always thought you were meant to be a father. You told me you wanted a big family..." She released a silent sigh. "I'm just afraid that I won't know what to do, that I'll be bad at it."

"Part of it is learning, I think," he said. "But, Nancy... I'm really not trying to make you upset. If you don't want to have kids, I won't try to pressure you into it. But if you're okay with the idea, you're just afraid of not being good at it... then we'll learn together. A child that's part of both of us, or a child we pick out together. Having a baby is a lot of responsibility, I know. It's scary and messy and expensive and time-consuming. Whatever your answer is, I'll accept it. The only thing that will make me upset is if you don't tell me the truth. If you're not ready..."

She reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. "For a long time, _before_... I couldn't imagine ever having kids, or being a mother. When the doctor told me it might be hard or impossible for me to have a baby, after the accident, I felt like I'd been punched. Even if I never chose to have a baby, knowing that it might not even be an option... it felt like I wasn't really a woman anymore if that was true." She made a soft frustrated sound. "I'm sure that sounds stupid."

"No," he assured her. "Of course not. I can imagine I'd feel the same way if I were told that something was wrong with me and I couldn't have children."

She sighed again. "With my career before, I didn't have the space in my life for... for anyone else, really. Not a steady boyfriend, not a husband or a child. Maybe that was part of it. I couldn't imagine having kids before... but now, I can. It scares me still, but I can. I just can't imagine having children with anyone other than you."

He ran his thumb lightly against her palm. "So you want to try," he said softly.

She took a long slow breath. "Yeah," she whispered. "Yes. When I spoke to the doctor, he said that after he does the operation on my foot, I can talk to the gynecologist about fertility treatments. There's a pill I can take; that's the least expensive option." She chuckled faintly. "Wonder if they have cribs that would be easy for me to use even in a wheelchair."

Ned touched her cheek again. "I'm sure they do," he said evenly, looking into her eyes. "But you don't need to worry about that. I'll be home to help you with all of it, and even if for some reason I'm not, my mom would love to help out, you know that."

She gave him a small smile. "Although I'm sure she'd be a lot happier if we were... more official, by then. Wouldn't she."

Ned shrugged. "I remember someone telling me about six months ago that she wanted a year to think about it," he said softly, and kissed the tip of her nose. "I want to be with you, and I am with you. The only thing that will be different is a piece of paper saying we're official. We'll still have our house, and we'll still share the bed. But I'm sure you've found the ring by now."

She had the grace to blush and glance away. "Maybe," she said, then looked up at him.

"Well, Nancy Drew," he said softly. "If you agree to become my wife, you will make me the happiest man in the world. If you decide that you want to take that treatment, and you come home to me and ask me to make love to you, to come inside you and maybe make a baby with you, I'll be happy. If you tell me that you want to adopt a child, I'll be happy too; if you tell me that we're going to raise a puppy, I'll be happy too." She chuckled, and he kissed her again. "But I want you to know that every morning I wake up beside you and see you in my bed, when I come home to you and tell you about my day and you tell me about yours, when we make dinner together and watch movies together and laugh together, I am happy; I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I want to be with you, and I'm with you.

"And when you want me to take you out for a meal at a nice restaurant, to get down on one knee and do it all right this time, I will. All you have to do is take the ring and put it on the dresser, and I'll know, and then I will."

She was still holding his hand. "Is that how you want it?" she asked softly.

"How do _you_ want it, Nan?"

She considered. "Maybe... if we went out to eat at a nice restaurant, and then we came home and relaxed here, and it was here. The proposal, I mean. So no one would see me crying when you asked me."

"You're going to cry?"

"Yeah." She nodded slightly. "I cried a little when I found the ring. I think I'm probably going to cry a lot more when you ask me."

"Even though I pretty much already have."

She smiled. "Well, you've asked me before," she pointed out. "A long time ago. I guess it was a little different then. No ring, after all."

"It was hastier than I would have liked," he told her softly, and kissed the tip of her nose again. "So you like the ring, huh."

"It's beautiful. And it—" She bit her lip.

"What? Out with it, Drew."

"And it fits me perfectly," she admitted.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Ned murmured, shaking his head, but he was smiling. "Man, I wish I'd been able to see that. But I guess I'll get to see it again."

"You will."

"Or..." He kissed her earlobe, and she shivered when his breath touched her ear. "You know, we could try it out."

"Try what out?"

"Well, I seem to remember us pretending to be engaged a few times on your cases. We could just... pretend, for a little while. Get used to the idea. Then it might be easier."

He kissed her neck, and she sighed. "Mmm. That's true," she said softly. "And practice does make perfect."

"All right. Wait here," he told her, standing.

She chuckled, and called after him when he went to their bedroom. "Like I'd do anything else."

He found the ring exactly where he had hidden it, but he wasn't surprised. As soon as the small velvet box was in his hand, he felt a jolt in his groin and his heart. He wanted to be with her. He wanted everything that giving her the ring would represent.

When he returned to the den, she smiled at him, but he saw her eyes gleaming a little. He turned off the overhead light; the gas logs were on, and the small flickering lights glowed inside the lanterns on the tables. The effect was nice, he thought, cozy and romantic.

"So, if we were doing this for real," he said, sitting down beside her, "I would tell you how happy I've been with you, and how grateful I am to you, for staying with me. I know sometimes it's hard. I know maybe this isn't what you imagined. But whatever comes, if your career takes you to Washington or New York or somewhere else, no matter what happens with the surgery or anything else, the life I have with you means everything to me. You were the first woman I ever loved, and I have never loved anyone else the way I love you. I will never love anyone else the way I love you. And that love, whether it results in another human being or not, whether we raise a family together or not, that love is what I need. With you, Nancy... I'm complete.

"This ring is only a sign of what's in my heart, what you already know. It's a small thing. It's not much, and it's everything."

He gently freed it from the box, and Nancy made a soft noise. When he looked into her face again, he saw the gleaming track of a tear down her cheek. "And I will ask you to marry me," he said softly, and another tear slid down her face. "I will ask you to be with me for the rest of our lives. I want every second I can have with you, every moment, because I know how precious each one is, how precious each one will be even if you and I live to be a hundred years old."

She searched his eyes, and another pair of tears slid down her cheeks. "Oh, Ned," she said softly. "I love you so much. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and you've always been there, in my heart... there's no other man I've ever felt this way about, and no other man I would ever want to be my husband. I love you."

He reached for her hand and stroked his thumb against the back of it. "I will always love you," he said softly. "Always, Nancy."

He was still gently stroking her hand, his heart beating harder, as he turned it over and placed the ring in her palm. She looked down at it for a long moment, then wiped her eyes. She chuckled. "My mascara's a mess, huh," she murmured.

"I couldn't care less," he told her softly.

She looked into his eyes then. "And I will say yes," she whispered. "I will say yes because I can't walk away from this, or you, or everything you mean to me. I would spend my life with you even if we had no piece of paper to make it official, no priest, no ring. When I'm with you... it's deeper than happiness. It's like knowing that I'm with the other half of myself. And when we were apart, I filled my life with everything I possibly could to distract myself from the pain of being without you. I loved my job, so so much, but it was more than that... as though if I slowed down for too long, I'd have time to register the pain."

He gave her a small smile. "Maybe that was part of it, but when we worked on your cases together, I think that was the happiest I'd seen you. The best of both worlds, I guess."

She returned his smile. "Yeah," she said. "In another life... that would've been perfect. To have you on my team?" Her eyes lit up at the thought. "To work with you during the day and come home with you..."

"And I'd be around to keep you safe." He stroked her cheek, then leaned down to plant a long soft kiss on her lips. "I'm sorry, Nan. I wish I could have given you that life."

She kissed him again, then pulled back, still stroking his cheek too. "Okay, like we said," she said softly. "We can't undo anything that's happened. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Ned Nickerson. And if you let me, if you want... I think we should practice being married. I've never been married, you know. I've only pretended a few times... and it never involved the fun parts."

He smiled. "So, Miss Drew, because I must ask... what are these 'fun parts' you'd like to practice?"

"Hmm. Well..." He watched her reach down and slide the engagement ring onto her finger, and her breath caught quietly as they both looked down at it, the way it sparkled in the dim light. "I think the most fun part of being married would involve you being a sweet, thoughtful husband..."

"Am I not already sweet and thoughtful?" he teased her softly.

"Most of the time," she confirmed with a smile. "But we both know it's very important that I keep my foot elevated. And this pesky little skirt will make it hard to do that."

"Then let me do the chivalrous thing and help you out of it."

"But I'd hate for the sequins on my shirt to scratch you while you're working on my skirt."

"Oooh. _Now_ who's being thoughtful?" He smiled, then kissed her. He caught the hem of her shirt in his hands and inched it up a little, then leaned down. "Mmm. You smell nice."

"You do too."

"And a sweet, thoughtful husband would tell his wife that the party was a great success because she thought everything through and worked hard to make sure it would be perfect. You were a great hostess." He chuckled softly against her belly when she leaned back against the arm of the couch, running her fingers through his hair.

"And you were a great host," she told him. "Boyfriend, husband, either. I saw how hard you were working, too."

He smiled. "It's a fresh start," he said. "A fresh start with old friends. And I loved being able to show off my beautiful girlfriend, because I'm so proud of her. One day we'll be able to invite our friends to see us married..."

She nodded slowly. "And I've always thought you were the most handsome man I've known," she murmured. "You are now."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Maybe now that I've been working out more often..."

She shook her head, cupping his cheek. "No," she said softly. "It's more than how you look, even though I've always thought you were gorgeous. It's all of you. I love you so much, and I see all the good in you, Ned. When I look at you I see the guy I love, and that makes you more handsome than anyone."

He gently pushed her shirt up above her breasts. "And when I look at you, I see the sweet, pretty girl I fell in love with, and the beautiful woman she became," he said softly. "I see my best friend, the woman I have always loved. Always."

Then he looked down and saw the lingerie she wore. "And the woman I definitely want to take to bed right now," he murmured. "Damn, baby. That is _incredibly_ sexy."

She smiled. "So you like it? Is it the kind of thing a married woman would wear?"

"Definitely. Like the kind of thing a married woman might wear if she wanted to end an argument, or make sure the night was going to be long and exhausting and deeply satisfying."

She laughed. "So if I came to the door in this..."

"All would be forgiven," he told her, slipping her shirt up and off. "Or I'd beg until it was, anyway."

She giggled, then sighed in pleasure as he gently rubbed his thumb over her nipple through the thin black lace bustier she wore. "I think it was worth it just for the look on your face right now," she said softly. "Mmm. And oh, that feels so good..."

He leaned down and kissed her other nipple through the fabric, then suckled against her, and she tightened her grip on his hair. She had been right about her skirt; she couldn't part her legs wide enough for him to move between, and he reached down to work on her fly. He heard her moaning, and then the sound of her shoe hitting the floor.

"Mmm," Ned murmured, pulling back. "Let's make a little adjustment..."

He moved her so her injured foot was up on the cushions of the couch and her head was pillowed on the overstuffed arm. Nancy's face was streaked with traces of tears and mascara, but a pleased flush had risen in her cheeks too.

Then he unfastened her skirt and began to inch it down, and she gripped the back of the couch to pull herself up and angle her hips. He pulled her skirt all the way off and saw the sheer black lace panties she wore, tied at each hip. He had to admit that he loved it; they were easier for her to put on without putting stress on her ankle, and _very_ easy for him to take off.

"God, you're beautiful, Nan."

He knew she was self-conscious about her scars, but he no longer noticed them. Underneath she still looked the same, and she still responded to his touch the way she always had. He traced the flesh between her thighs with his fingertips, warm through the fabric, and she tilted her hips, her lips parting.

"The best part of being married is all of it," he told her softly. "Knowing that even at the worst times, someone else is there to share it. Turning over in the middle of the night and listening to you breathe. Being with you like this." He took one tie in his fingers. "Showing you how much I love you."

She moaned softly. "This only felt like love when it was with you," she whispered. "It was good with other guys, but with you... God, the way you looked at me like I was so precious to you, it broke my heart and made me love you even more..."

He smiled at her. "And that's what I always wanted it to do," he murmured, then knelt between her thighs to kiss her hips, her belly button.

"Mmm. You're wearing too many clothes," she murmured.

He hooked his thumb under the tie at her hip, moving over her, kissing her gently. She began to unbutton his shirt, parting her legs for him, releasing a soft pleased groan when he settled his hips against hers. "So," she murmured, between kisses, "I think, I'm going, to need, a lot, more practice."

"But you're perfect," he told her, nuzzling at her neck, tracing her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Once she unbuttoned the last button of his shirt, he kissed the lowest point between the bustier's flimsy cups, and she shivered in pleasure. "Those clever little fingertips," he murmured, and brought each of her hands to his lips to kiss the tips of her slender fingers. "That sweet tight pussy, and that wicked tongue..."

She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, and she gasped when he reached under her to find the closures on the bustier. "And you," she gasped out when they broke the kiss, her fingertips fumbling at his fly. "God, everything... I want you on me, with me, inside me so deep and perfect... I'm so fucking wet for you right now."

"Mmm," Ned growled as she opened his jeans. "Tell me more, honey."

"You're all I want," she moaned softly. "I feel you inside me and I see the tenderness in your eyes and I love you so much. When you fill me up, and it feels so good I could cry..."

"I know," he whispered, and when he had unfastened half the hooks on her bustier, he nuzzled the lace cup from her left breast and drew her nipple into his mouth, and she shuddered under him, slipping her hand beneath the elastic band of his underwear against his bare ass. She wrapped her uninjured leg around his waist, and they ground together, her other hand buried in his hair as he suckled against her breast.

"Mmm. So good," she moaned, arching against him as he rubbed his erection against the join of her thighs, through their underwear. He gently bit her nipple and she gasped, digging her nails into the cheek of his ass; he groaned and rubbed more firmly against her, and she shuddered again.

They fed off each other, kissing again, holding out as long as they could. He unfastened the rest of her bustier and she slipped it off; he suckled against each of her breasts, then kissed his way down to her panties again. When he caught one end of a tie between his teeth and began to tug, she giggled and squirmed underneath him.

He kissed her hips and her inner thighs, taking his time with it, and she was panting softly as she ran her fingers through his hair again. He caressed the silk-smooth skin of her calves, circling her uninjured ankle with his fingertips. When he moved over her, looking into her eyes again, she smiled at him.

"Shit," he whispered. "I knew I should have gotten a condom before now..."

"Wallet?"

"In the bedroom," Ned sighed.

Nancy made a soft sound. "God," she whispered as he moved off her, and he couldn't help looking down at her. She was sprawled on the couch and ready for him, flushed and naked save the boot on her ankle and the engagement ring.

"Five seconds," Ned promised, and ran to the bedroom, fishing in the bedside table's drawer for a condom. He came back with a handful, tossing them onto the coffee table. Nancy's left hand was on her belly, the ring sparkling on her finger.

He was still arrested by the sight; he thought he always would be, especially when she smiled at him.

"What are you waiting for, handsome?" she murmured.

"Just thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About how damn beautiful you look right now," he told her. "And wondering if you want to try something."

Her smile became a sexy grin. "I do love those words," she said.

Her seat in the recliner was still extended, with the footrest out. He stripped down and moved to sit down in it, but Nancy pulled the throw that she had put on the back of the couch onto the seat before he did. He sat down with his legs out in front of him, then helped Nancy maneuver so she was straddling his waist, her booted foot at the edge of the couch's seat so it wasn't stressed.

"Mmm. Don't know if I'll be able to do this long," she warned him, reaching for the condom she had snagged. "Oooh. Ribbed _and_ with 'sensual lubricant'?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "I can hardly wait."

"Believe me, neither can I," he told her, watching her rip the foil packet open and slide the condom onto his erection. Given her fertility issues, Nancy wasn't on any birth control, and while the chances were slim that she would conceive without treatment, Ned still didn't want to risk it until she was ready. Having sex with her bareback had always been incredible, but this way was the next best thing.

She positioned herself over him, and he slid down a little to give her a better angle. Holding the base of his cock, she moved so she was rubbing the tip of his cock against her clit, hanging her head, and he stroked her hip, then guided his hand up to idly rub her hard nipple. She released a low moan, and then her hips quivered.

"Good?" He was beginning to feel it, but watching her get off on him had always felt amazing.

"Yeah," she sighed, and her entire body was undulating slightly. "Oh... oh, _wow_..."

"You are so fucking sexy right now," he told her, fondling her other nipple as he cupped her cheek. She pressed a kiss against his palm, her hips rising and falling slightly again. "God, so incredibly gorgeous."

She looked up at him, smiling. "Well, now that you've managed to charm me out of my clothes and on top of you, future husband... what happens now?" She lifted one eyebrow slightly. "Maybe I should check and see if I'm wet enough for you, for this big hard cock..."

"That sounds perfect," he said, his voice a low growl.

She angled her hips, then guided his cock down the gleaming folds between her legs, down to the hollow of her sex. She rubbed the head of his cock against her opening, then moved so he was barely penetrating her, letting out a low moan that made his balls tighten. "Mmmmmm, _yeah_ ," she sighed. "God..."

He began to fondle both her breasts, and her hips bucked. "God," she moaned. "Oh God, oh _God_..."

"More," he begged her. "Please, baby..."

"You want to watch me take every hot hard inch of you, inside me where I'm tender and wet and aching for it? You want me to fuck you, Ned?"

"Hell yes," he growled. "Right now."

He moved his hand between her legs but didn't start fondling her clit until she began to sink onto him, letting him penetrate her. He began stroking her slowly, just like the shallow thrusts of her hips, until she was rutting against him, bouncing up and down on top of him as her inner flesh slipped tight and hot against his cock, and he rubbed her clit in hard rapid strokes. She panted and cried out, gasping her breaths, shuddering at the deepest point in every thrust. "Oh, oh my _God!_ " she sobbed, then looked into his eyes. "Please, oh _fuck_ , oh God, can you..."

He read the pleading expression and held her to him as he moved her onto the couch again, moving on top of her. She wrapped her stronger leg around him and arched as he pushed his full length inside her, choking out a cry.

"Mmm," he groaned. "God, you feel so good."

She tipped her head back, sobbing again as he began to stroke her clit. "Oh God oh God oh _God_ , oh my God Ned..."

He worked in her until she began to groan loudly, her hips jerking, and then he felt her reach her orgasm, her cries becoming loud and breathless, almost shrill with screams. She was sobbing something incoherent, mostly his name and profanity, and when he couldn't hold onto his control anymore, he pressed his full length between her thighs and spent himself in the condom.

"Ned," she whispered, gasping for breath. "Oh God..."

He was panting as he kissed her temple, and she kissed his jaw, running her fingers through his hair. He relaxed against her carefully so he wouldn't hurt her, and she wrapped her arms around him, her lashes brushing his cheek as she closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he told her, nuzzling against her. "I love you so much, Nan."

She drew her fingertips against his shoulder blades in short gentle strokes. "I can't believe this is ours," she whispered. "I can't believe this life is ours."

He moved back to look into her eyes, then pressed a soft kiss against her lips. "I'm so glad that you're happy to be with me," he told her. "That I'm enough."

She shook her head, gently brushing her thumb against his lips. "That's not it at all," she whispered. "It's not. I wasn't strong enough for your love, Ned. You were too much for me. I loved you but it was like drowning, because I was so afraid of who I was when I was with you. I couldn't see it. I thought it meant losing myself, but it didn't, not that way. Fighting it..." She shook her head again. "But please, Ned, don't ever think that I settled for you. It's not like that at all. I just couldn't let you only have half my heart anymore. I didn't have the space in my life to give you what you would have needed before, and now I do. And I love you so much, I love you more than anyone or anything else in my life."

"And I love you," he murmured. "I always have, and I always will." He reached for her hand and laced his fingers between hers. "Just like this. For the rest of our lives together, Nan."

She kissed him again, sweetly, and then he moved off her to strip off the condom and clean them both up. Nancy was moving, but slowly, and when he scooped her up still naked and carried her to the bed they shared, she smiled at him. "You are the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I know."

He grinned. "Glad I could finally convince you."

He took care of checking the door, turning off the lights and making sure their house was secure, and when he returned to their bed Nancy had brushed her teeth and put on a shirt. Two pillows were stacked at the foot of her side of the bed, so she could prop her injured foot up, and when Ned brushed his own teeth and returned to her, she was gingerly sliding the boot off. The doctor had recommended a less bulky one to use while she slept.

Once they had settled into bed together, she moved onto her side and Ned cuddled behind her, his arm over her. She laced her fingers between his, and he felt the metal band of the ring still on her finger. He kissed the side of her neck, gently. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too," she murmured, her voice slow and thick with exhaustion as she nestled against him.

The good thing about the way she slept was the position it put her in, and when Ned woke the next morning, he discovered that she hadn't put on any underwear the night before, and that she was very receptive when he stroked his fingertips between her legs. He was gentle with her, to keep from jostling her ankle, but he stroked her until she was wet and gasping and clinging to him, then rolled on a condom and fitted himself between her legs.

She sobbed as he penetrated her, both their fingers frantically stroking her clit, and he snaked his hand up under her shirt to roughly fondle her bare breast. "Ned," she sobbed, circling her hips, and he pressed deeper inside her. "Oh my _God_..."

"You feel so good, baby," he gasped. "Oh, so fucking good..."

She shuddered on his next thrust. " _Mmmmm!_ Oh fuck..."

He rocked his hips against hers and she moved against his thrusts, meeting them, crying out in pleasure. She was rapidly stroking her own clit, and when he brought his hand up to brush against her lips, she sucked his thumb into her mouth and licked the wetness off, and Ned groaned as he thrust into her harder. She gasped when he briefly pinched her nipple, when he splayed his fingers against her abdomen and bucked his hips again.

Then she twisted, pulling him with her, and he groaned in relief as he fucked her from behind, with her on all fours, her foot still up, and the full length of his cock finally enfolded by her slick tight sex. He made his thrusts longer, deeper, and he could hear how wet she was as he plunged into her. She was gasping, sobbing, and when he cupped his hand between her thighs he found her still rapidly fondling her clit. He joined her at it and she shuddered, crying out. "Oh my _God_ , fuck, _yes_ ," she groaned, then cried out more loudly.

He kissed her shoulder, her hair like silk against his lips. "God, I love you," he panted.

"Mmm. I love you so much," she whimpered, but then she gasped sharply, and Ned forced himself to stop.

"Okay?"

She made another pained groan, and he felt her shift, then relax a little. "Okay," she gasped. "I'm okay. Don't stop..."

"You sure?"

She groaned. "Fucking _get inside me_ ," she moaned.

Ned chuckled. "Yes ma'am," he replied, and pulled back for another thrust that left her shuddering. He was already close to the edge of his control, and he was gritting his teeth, rapidly moving in her sex when her hips jerked and she gasped loudly, signaling her climax.

"Fuck, oh _fuck!_ God yes yes _yessss_..."

She screamed and Ned groaned when he felt her inner flesh spasm against his cock. "Fuck," he snarled, and she shuddered when he thrust into her again. "Oh fuck oh holy _fuck_..."

He didn't hold out for as long as he wanted, but he knew that she had come, and after a few deep breaths he slid out of her and she collapsed bonelessly, face-down, onto the bed, then gasped.

"Nan?"

"Mmm. _Shit_ ," she gasped, slowly pushing herself up. "Fuck. That seemed like a really good idea at the time..."

He helped her turn over and she gasped for breath, her shirt twisted up so it only covered one breast. "Better?"

She nodded, tugging the hem of her shirt down. "Better. Mmm."

He tossed the condom, then returned to the bed with a damp washcloth and gently wiped the join of her thighs. "Okay. Now I need a nap to recover from that," he told her, flopping back down onto the bed, then moving beside her.

She giggled. "God, that was amazing. I think our practicing is going really well so far, Ned."

He kissed her shoulder. "You're an excellent student," he told her.

She sighed, then lifted her left hand so the diamond sparkled in the sunlight coming through the window, casting tiny rainbows onto the wall. "It's so beautiful," she whispered.

"Yeah," Ned murmured. "Almost as beautiful as the woman wearing it."

She chuckled, then looked over at him. "So I think we should keep practicing," she said softly. "I'll keep wearing it, if that's okay... just to, you know, get used to it."

"Right. Just to get used to it. And then maybe, we could... have a wedding?"

"I think that's fair," she said softly. "Because I really don't want to take it off..."

He searched her eyes and smiled. "Marry me, Nancy," he said softly. "Build a life with me and I will give you all of me, everything I ever can."

Tears rose in her eyes, and she nodded, gazing into his own eyes. "Yes... _yes_ ," she murmured, and drew him to her to give him a soft, sweet kiss.

"So I think I could probably find a dress by Valentine's Day. As long as you don't manage to knock me up, Nickerson. Unless that's... unless it's too soon."

"Sounds perfect," he told her with a smile. "Two excuses to shower the woman I love with roses and chocolates. But I'll do whatever you want, Nan."

She brushed his lips with her thumb. "That's what I want," she whispered. "To build a life with the man I love, starting as soon as we possibly can."

He kissed her thumb. "Then I think we're off to a pretty good start."


	3. ever after

Nancy had asked Ned several times if he was okay with it, and he had insisted; she needed the time off. Bess and George had called and said they were taking her out for a girls' relaxation day, which George was apparently tolerating only because it meant spending time with her two best friends. Last Ned had heard, she was negotiating to end the evening at a batting cage.

Bess and George were waiting outside in Bess's car, and Nancy came out of the bedroom dressed and ready to go, in a long skirt and flats, her hair in reddish-gold waves past her shoulders. She hitched her purse strap a little higher on her shoulder and cupped Ned's cheek, drawing him down to her so she could plant a soft kiss against his lips. "Thanks, honey," she said, and he smiled at her.

"Have fun, sweetheart. I mean it. We'll be okay."

"Maybe. By the time I get back, though, you might need your own mini-break."

She perched her sunglasses on top of her head, then turned toward the corner of the living room. A thin quilt covered in alphabet blocks was spread over the carpet, and Charlotte had fallen asleep under the semicircle frame, toys dangling in the air above her. Ian had his thumb in his mouth and his legs tucked up under him, and she gently rolled him onto his back without waking him. "Be good for Daddy," she whispered.

Keeping an ear out for signs that the twins were waking up, Ned watched his wife walk down the front steps and out to Bess's car, while Bess waved from the driver's seat. The scars on Nancy's ankle were paler now, and while she could only manage a very low heel for any real length of time, her strides were sure and even, and he couldn't even detect the hint of a limp anymore. When she was tired, he could—but she was rested and happy now, and he was glad.

Soon after their wedding, Nancy had told him that they weren't getting any younger, and she wanted to have children while she still had the energy to chase them around. Ned had agreed, and after they had tried unsuccessfully for a year, her gynecologist had put her on pills to help increase her fertility, but she had cautioned Nancy that they could only use them for six months; after that, they would need to consider alternative methods. Those alternate methods would cost a lot more than a monthly prescription, and for those six months, as her periods came and announced their failure to conceive, Ned had looked at their options. He had looked at their health insurance, at their monthly budget, at whether adoption might be better for them.

And during their last chance, during the sixth month, her period didn't come.

The gynecologist had said that increased fertility meant an increased chance of having twins or multiples, but they hadn't quite believed it; Nancy had told him that as long as they had one healthy child, she would be happy, and he agreed. Son or daughter, dark or fair, he didn't mind either. As long as both his wife and child survived, he would be happy. She craved sweet pickles and tomatoes and chicken sandwiches during her pregnancy; she developed an aversion to onions, and she couldn't stand the smell of hot dogs. But she loved bacon with almost everything, and started craving sweet potato fries and peanut-butter-cup ice cream as she never had before. He happily went out at three a.m. to buy her white chocolate Hershey's kisses, when that was what she wanted.

He held Nancy every night of her pregnancy, praying for her and for their child, praying that they would be safe—and when he and Nancy found out she was carrying twins, that anxiety had risen accordingly. The night he felt the bump of an elbow or heel from inside her belly, he had felt such speechless wonder and such fear. Nancy had been confined to her bed for the last month of her pregnancy; the doctor had been worried about her, her age and her previous medical issues and the fact that she was carrying twins, and while Nancy had been incredibly stir-crazy, Hannah and Edith had swooped in to entertain her and finish preparing the house for the babies' arrival. The bassinets, the changing table, the cribs were assembled, the toys and supplies and miniature outfits sorted. Edith and Hannah had even made receiving blankets for each baby, stitched with their initials—Ian Drew Nickerson and Charlotte Eloise Nickerson.

When Nancy went into labor, Ned hadn't been able to believe it was true, that it was really happening. Charlotte was born first, and she looked just like the baby pictures of Nancy, but she had Edith's nose. Ian looked just like a miniature version of his father, but he had Nancy's blue eyes.

Once Bess's car had pulled out of their neighborhood, Ned sat down on the floor and looked at the twins. During the first week Charlotte and Ian had been home, Nancy and Ned had left a bassinet on each side of their bed, just to make their lives easier. Nancy had elected to breastfeed, and the twins often woke each other crying, so Ned comforted one while she nursed the other, took care of burping and changing them when they needed it, then fell asleep holding his wife again.

She was okay, and regardless of anything else, every day felt like a blessing because Nancy was all right, their babies were all right, healthy and beautiful.

Charlotte sighed in her sleep, and Ned saw her rosebud lips quiver as she pulled at an invisible pacifier. They had finally begun sleeping through the night, although Ned didn't know if he would ever make up for all the sleep he had lost over them. He wasn't in his twenties anymore, and his body had no problem with reminding him.

Ian was the first to wake up, with a huge yawn and an arm-flail. He blinked big blue eyes up at Ned, then gave him a wide grin. A single tooth was visible in his lower gums; Nancy was pretty sure another was coming in, thanks to his fussiness the day before.

"Hey buddy," Ned said, reaching down to help him sit up, and Ian giggled. "Have a good nap? Ian, my man."

Ian giggled when he heard his name, then swept his hand to the side. He seemed to be looking for something, and slowly he tipped over onto his hands and knees, making "ba-ba-ba" noises as he began to crawl. His foot bumped Charlotte, and she yawned as she woke up, too.

When they had fallen asleep, Nancy had put their teething rings in the refrigerator, so Ned went to get them. When he came back, Ian had pulled himself up and was gripping the side of the toybox, unsteady on his feet. Charlotte gripped the teething ring Ned handed her with an intensely studious look on her face, then slowly brought it to her face and started gumming it. She made a meaningless hum that almost sounded relaxed.

"That good, honey? Charlotte?"

He said her name slowly, and she blinked at him, then extended her hand, flexing her fingers. He slipped his finger into her tiny palm and she closed her fingers around it, still teething.

They had a routine, and Ned stuck to it as best he could. Nancy had stopped nursing when Ian and Charlotte had started teething, but she still made bottles for them. He put them in their high chairs and handed each of them one of their ridiculous double-handed sippy cups, and Charlotte left the teething ring on the seat's tray as she drank. Her red hair was held back out of her eyes by a stretchy headband that she kept trying to pull out of her hair. Ian had been clutching a small school bus toy when Ned had seated him in the high chair, and with a gasp he put his sippy cup down, then picked up the truck again. "Ba-ba-ba," he told it.

"N," Charlotte replied, bashing her sippy cup against the tray.

"Nana?" Ned tried. His mother had been trying to get them to call her "Nana," but they hadn't quite figured it out yet. She adored keeping them; she adored them, period. During the few date nights he and Nancy had been able to take for themselves—and they had taken advantage of the time to have some pure uninterrupted sleep—Ian and Charlotte had stayed over at Ned's parents' house.

Before he brought over the freshly-processed banana and apple—he and Nancy had both been shocked by the price of baby food, and keeping fresh fruit and vegetables in the house made them more likely to eat them anyway—he put bibs on the twins. Charlotte wore a onesie dotted in smiling cartoon bees and butterflies, and Ian wore a red and blue Spider-man onesie that Mike and Jan had given him at the last baby shower. Ned had a feeling that one was more Mike's doing, anyway.

They had only recently learned how to use their small, shallow plastic spoons, and Ned gave them each a serving of the pureed fruit, along with some mashed but still chunky boiled carrots. Charlotte was fascinated by the orange vegetable, and took a handful to lift to her mouth; Ian giggled when his spoon sank into it.

"Mmm. Carrots," Ned told them. "Carrots and apple and banana. Make you grow up nice and strong. Make sure you have good eyes like your mom, and good reflexes like me."

Charlotte watched him, her spoon still clenched in her chubby fist. Everything about her was soft; her hair, the curve of her cheek, her feet. Ian had been a little smaller than his sister at birth, but they were almost the same size now. Charlotte preferred a crinkly giraffe toy to all the others in the toybox, and she "spoke" more, while Ian was already trying to climb everything—his legs weren't strong enough to make him dangerous yet—and he loved it when Ned would pick him up in his arms and play airplane with him.

Ned made himself a sandwich, something easy to eat one-handed while he kept his eye on the twins. Charlotte finished everything on her plate and picked up the sippy cup again; Ian whined and made a grabby-hands gesture at Ned until Ned wet a clean washcloth and gave it to him to gnaw on.

After Ned had cleaned up their lunch and their faces and hands, they went back in the living room. He had considered taking them out for a walk in the double stroller, but the day was warm and he didn't want either of them to overheat or get a sunburn. Ian took his turn in the activity walker while Ned let Charlotte look through her toys for something to play with. The twins hadn't quite figured the walker out yet, and spent a lot of their time in it bouncing and playing with the toys. Ned glanced over and saw that Ian's fist was in his mouth, and he went to the refrigerator to grab the spare teething ring.

When Ned came back, Charlotte was holding an oversized play phone upside-down and studying it intently. Ned tickled her foot and she squirmed, giggling.

"I'm gonna eat your toes," he told her, and she smacked the toy on the blanket as she turned her big blue eyes on him. "Mmm. Delicious baby-toes."

He kissed her foot, then made "yum-yum-yum" noises, and Charlotte shrieked with laughter. He tickled her belly, then picked her up and brought her to him so he could kiss her forehead. "Mmm. Wonder how baby Charlotte's ears taste..."

She shrieked with laughter again when he tickled her earlobe. "Ma-ma-ma," she told him, her eyes shining.

"Mmm. Say that again when Mommy comes home," he told her with a grin. "When Ma-ma comes home."

"Ma-ma-ma."

He nodded. "Ma-ma will be back soon. I'm Daddy. Da-da."

"Ma-ma-ma."

"We'll work on it." He tickled her ear again and she giggled.

He heard a thump and looked over. Ian had backed the walker into the door to the master bedroom, and with a bounce he did it again. "No, Ian," Ned called.

Ian looked up at him, and Ned could have sworn that Ian knew exactly what he was saying. He thumped a brightly-colored button on the walker and a snatch of a singsong tune came out, and Ned hooked his fingers around the front of the walker, urging it forward a few feet. "Buddy, you ready to let Charlotte try it out?"

"La," Ian repeated, and pressed the button again.

Ned shook his head. "God," he murmured. "Soon you two will be talking. Walking around. Asking for car keys and gas money."

Charlotte had swept up the play phone again, and when she touched one of the buttons, a digital voice came out of a speaker, bright and chattering half the alphabet song. Charlotte pressed the button again before the song was finished, and it began again.

Ned had insisted that Nancy stay out for as long as she wanted, that he would call her if something came up but he wanted her to relax and enjoy herself. He and the twins were taking their midafternoon nap in the master bedroom, the white-noise generator's distant crashing waves putting all three of them to sleep, when Ned's cell phone rang.

"Hey," Nancy said when he picked up. "Everything going okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ned said quietly.

"You sound sleepy, hon. Did you decide to take your nap early?"

"Yeah," Ned murmured. "We've had a big day. Carrots happened."

"Oooh. Well, we're about to go to a movie. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I think we'll probably be back soon after dinner."

"I'll hold down the fort," Ned said, just as he heard a cooing from Ian's bassinet. "Hmm. I think someone's had enough sleep for now."

By the time Nancy came home, Ned had played itsy-bitsy-spider and this-little-piggy with both the twins countless times, had fed them pureed green beans and applesauce for dinner before he ate a leftover baked potato for his own meal, bathed them and changed them and dressed them in clean onesies and put them down for the night. They smelled sweet, like baby powder and lavender baby wash, and when Nancy came in Ned was sprawled on the bed, a baby cuddled on either side of him.

Nancy was smiling at him when he woke up. "Aww," she said softly. "Here. Let me put them in their bassinets."

Ned yawned as Nancy lifted Charlotte, but their little girl opened her eyes and yawned hugely. As soon as she saw her mother, she reached for her, and Nancy cuddled her close. "Hey sweetheart. Were you good for Daddy?"

"Mmmmm," Charlotte murmured, rubbing her face against Nancy's shoulder, catching the fabric of her shirt in her fist. Nancy shushed her, stroking her silky hair.

Ian yawned too, then grunted as he began to roll onto his side so he could push himself up. Ned sat up too so he could hold onto their son and make sure he didn't tumble off the bed. "Ba-ba-ba," Ian said.

"So close," Ned sighed, but he was smiling. "Charlotte, remember what we were talking about earlier?"

Nancy chuckled. "Don't tell me you're already telling her about jump shots."

Ian put his hands on Ned's thigh and pushed himself up, then promptly fell on his butt again as the mattress shifted under him. Ned kept a hand at his son's waist to steady him. "Mmmmm," Ian growled as he tried again.

Charlotte leaned back in Nancy's arms and patted her shoulder a few times. "Ma-ma-ma," she said.

"Oh, honey!" Nancy kissed the tip of her nose. "Yes. Ma-ma. Can you say da-da?"

"Not yet," Ned filled in, as Ian pushed himself up again. He clung to Ned's shoulder to keep himself upright. Then Ian started that peculiar whine he had been making recently.

"Teething rings in the fridge?"

"Yeah."

Nancy started to put Charlotte down, but she whined in the beginning of a wail, and Ned scooted to the edge of the bed. "Here. I'll go. Good girl," he told Charlotte. "Stay on the bed, tiger," he told Ian.

"Grrr," Ian parroted back.

Ned brought back the teething rings, and watched the twins while Nancy changed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. She collapsed to the bed with a long sigh, gathering her hair up into a ponytail.

"Long day?"

"But it was good," she said with a smile. "Massages and facials and a movie, and dinner at this cute little bistro at the mall. And did you three have a good day?"

Ned nodded. "I ate Charlotte's toes," he told his wife solemnly.

"It's a good thing they grew back, little girl," Nancy said, tickling Charlotte's foot, and she giggled against her teething ring. "And I bet you two wore Daddy out."

"Da-da-da," Ian replied.

Nancy grinned, and when she sat down on the bed, Ian crawled toward her. Ned scooped Charlotte up and cuddled her as she teethed. "I missed you guys," Nancy said softly. "My babies and my Ned. I wanted to call every ten minutes and check on you."

"My Nancy," Ned murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. "I think maybe tomorrow _we_ need a little get-reacquainted time."

Nancy shivered happily. "Mmm. So Charlotte and Ian can go hang out with Nana and Papa Nickerson for a while," she said, and brushed her fingertip against Ian's nose.

"Da-da," he replied.

"Yep. We'll definitely shoot some hoops after," he told his son, and Nancy laughed.

"Love you, Ned."

"Love you, sweetheart."

"Tuh," Charlotte replied, then rubbed her eyes.

"Aww. Sleepy girl. It's all right, I'll be here when you wake up."

They put the twins down again, and Ned had been hoping to stay up and maybe watch something with his wife, but they both seemed to be completely exhausted. They brushed their teeth and made sure the lights were off and the doors locked, then tumbled into bed together, the twins' soft even breaths lulling and sweet.

"I know we should put them in their cribs," Ned said softly, as Nancy moved into his arms.

"But they're so sweet," Nancy finished, her own voice hushed. "We'll do it next month. When they aren't as fussy."

"Mmm." He closed his eyes as she slipped her leg between his. "I love you, honey."

"Love you too," she murmured, tucking her head beneath his chin, and soon they were both asleep.


End file.
